The Immortality Quest(Project Evolution)
by Allthebuttons
Summary: A telling of the separate journeys of Clara and Ashildr, The Doctor and his new companions, as they step over each others toes throughout time and space. (A continuation from series 9)
1. An Untimely Diner Pt 1

**AN: I don't feel I can give an adequate description of the story as every few chapters will be a new adventure, all tying in to a finale in which the two sets of adventures combine to tackle a big bad. This one however goes along the lines of...**

 **An Untimely Diner**

 **It's the year 2340 and an old diner on the corner of Yeadon Way receives something very unexpected. A customer! But not just any customer, one who knows all about Miss Clara Oswald and insists she and Ashildr investigate a temporal anomaly that may threaten the future of humanity.**

* * *

On this Tuesday the sky was grey and solemn. The wind harsh and bitey, carrying the scent of salt from the sea all the way through the winding roads and alley ways. It lashed at the trees dressed in their autumn hues. Leaves of oak and silver birch soared far from their high places, succumbing to the inevitable pull of gravity. Like so many of their brethren in the early hours of the day, they held themselves helplessly in a state of dread, awaiting the pitter patter of childrens feet to smash them and mash them, beat them and crash them, until they became the dirt themselves. For this was a leaf that fell in a play park and the school bells were always just around the corner. Swinging softly on the swing set, Clara Oswald tucked the thick woollen tail of her scarf into the front of her coat, the knitted ringlets warming her skin when she turned her chin down into the fabric. Sodden leaves slapped wetly against her shoes in another violent breeze and she thought back to when her shoes were smaller, as was the rest of her, a muddy child playing football in the leaves, going home to find another. A leaf above all others, precious and preserved long past it's years in her mother's book. That was just under three hundred years ago now. Three hundred years and three children buried. The forth, after less than a week in her arms, she handed into the local care system believing it a mercy compared to the fates of her other children. This was her five minutes of grief. The five minutes she took everyday until the pain was lighter. That was a rule she had learnt from...someone, she couldn't recall who.

The weather was no silent thing and she hardly heard the footsteps creeping up behind her even with the plethora of leaves for boots to slip and slosh against. She did however hear the creaking of the metal swingset, as the seat besides her was made no longer vacant, Ashildr could be a silent thing when she chose to be.

"Your sad." she observed, matching Clara's slow rhythm on the swings with a push of her feet.

"Yeah, I am. Good day for it an all,"

"Did you see her off or did they just,"

" I did. Her foster mother seems like a good sort. She's got a good job. I left the naming up to her." Ashildr whipped her head round at this.  
"You always wanted to call your first daughter Ellie"

"I know, but as of today I never had a daughter." she sighed audibly, "It's better this way isn't it? Is it? No of course it is." she pleaded with Ash, the woman who could seem a decade younger than her but in actuality carried infinitely more experience on her shoulder than what would seem. It was this experience that encouraged her to smile, her hand outstretched on Clara's shoulder in an offer of comfort. Her words that followed, did so with ease and only hesitation long enough for her to observe it had been a question on repeat in her head for some time now. "It is. And if this happens again you'll be ready for it. We're not cut out for this life anymore Clara. It's not our normal."

"Normal," she pondered the word in a more chipper tone, though most likely she was dismissing the hurt, "Do you remember what that use to be like?"

Ashildr crossed her brows in a mock rendition of thoughtfulness, "Well it's been a while, but a young woman once told me it involves soufflés," At that Clara chuckled honestly, the recollection of several kitchen mishaps aboard there shared TARDIS brought to the forefront of her mind. A trio of boys, varying in age squabbling and cheering over half baked goods. Her laughter died naturally and the two were left in peaceful silence paired with the squeek creek of rusting metal. " Where do we go from here then. Do you want to stay. Be sad for a little longer."

"Are you eager to leave Ash?" Clara inquired.

"I'm well acquainted with the slow path Clara. We can stay put as long as you need, I just don't know if that's best for you. It's your decision."

In a way that choice being up to her was unwanted. How easy it would be to just follow someone else's direction, not to be stuck between running from grief or being engulfed by. Neither was healthy, she knew that. And for moments like these she and Ash had adopted a new way of communicating to each other; a bit of friendly lying.  
"You want to go somewhere don't you," said Clara, her voice speaking with well learned presumption but her eyes asked something else. _'Take me away from here,'_ Ashildr read, and quickly summoned a reply.

"Well, in the year 3010, there a meteor strike in Russia. I saw the aftermath but missed the impact." by watching Clara, the young immortal hoped to assess if her idea was catching her interest, she was nodding agreeable, "Might be interesting."

"Might be, might be," she agreed, and jumped from her swing onto the crunching earth, "let's get going then," she was by the gate before Ashildr had upped to join her. Arm in arm they walked down the meandering paths towards the north of the city. They favoured lengthy conversation over public transport and so it took them near forty five minutes to arrive at the place they called home. Still in the heart of town, just off from a busy vein of traffic, tucked in the generously sized space between two blocks of three storey town houses was a single storey building from the twenty first century. The windows were shuttered and the lights were out, and for many months now it had become and ignored part of the landscape. Clara and Ashildr were the diner's only two keyholders and when they entered it was no longer the dark abandoned hovel it seemed from the outside but a warm inviting space. They could face the windows and see the outside world as if the shutters were not truly there because in truth they were not. It was a trick of perception, compensation offered by the TARDIS to it's pilots in regards to it's ineffectual chameleon circuit. Once inside they walked through to the back door, past that and into the TARDIS console room. Still arranged in it's white spacey desktop, the two women had grown somewhat fond of the design. And, upon lengthy study of the ship's manual, with their limited understanding of written galifreyan, they discovered what they believed to be instructions for redesign to look dangerously similar to the instructions for deleting whole rooms at a time.

They were in no hurray to leave, removing shoes and hanging coats on the appropriate stand. Ashildr was first to notice something odd though, whilst Clara attended to the console preparing for flight Ash was caught by the screen on the far wall, currently showing the inside of the diner with a lone women sitting at the bar.  
"Uh, Clara. We've got a customer."

"We've got a what?" she asked incredulously, meeting her by the screen.  
"A customer. An actually customer, that's never happened before. Did you lock up properly?"

"Of course I locked up properly, I always do!"

"Well obviously not if someone got in."

"That's not possible." said Clara, watching the woman on the screen, still waiting, occasionally glancing to the door which leads to the console. Clara abandoned the screen, walking towards the room which housed their wardrobe.  
"Are we not going to go out there then?" Ashildr asked as Clara moved out of sight.

"Just a moment," came the reply, "Finding the right outfit." as so she emerged in a waitress's attire, a size or so larger than the last as she had extra weight to accommodate. Ashildr quickly realised her intents but Clara informed her nonetheless, " I'll see her off if this is just a locked door incident. Keep watching that screen though. If it's anything else, do something clever. She must have something powerful if she managed to break into the TARDIS, we can't let her leave if that's the case." Clara was hopping into work high heels with mixed success.

"You want this to be a thing don't you?"

"What? Why would you think that?"

"Because you're out of breath from dressing so quickly and you're putting your shoes on the wrong feet." Clara looked down and saw it was true.  
"Oh, so I am." She kicked them off and corrected herself, "I'm just looking forward to getting back to normalcy is all. A nice normal."

"Which kind of normal?"

"The best kind," A smile was shared and Clara launched herself towards one of the roundels where a notepad and pen were resting on the ledge.

When she re-entered the diner, she did so with an ounce of trepidation under a veneer of confidence that came natural to her. Three hundred years of flying a diner and not a single patron had passed those doors, no regular person could. And not a single person had sat in that seat at the bar since...him. Anxiety was not an unfair reaction. She assumed her place behind the counter, pad and pen in hand and saw the women properly for the first time. She looked older than her but not by much, perhaps approaching her late thirties but it could be said the woman's rather prominent nose was skewing Clara's assessment. Her hair was an organised mess of blonde ringlets pinned back with a simple clip and as for her attire she wore mostly black, a dark turtle neck jumper with a few accessories over which she wore a large coatigan of a more coppery colour. There was intrigue to be found in her eyes however, sharp hazel pools exuding confidence and, what made Clara tense when she realised, purposefulness. She was here for a reason.

"Hi, what can I get you?" she asked, maintaining the charade. It was a while before she got any response. The woman simply smiled at her for a long time, her eyes pouring over Clara's body with and odd expression across her face. Time passed naggingly, each tick of the clock more pronounced than the one before it. Pad and paper were abandoned, the waitress game not being played for this encounter. The women sniffled and finally asked,

"Where do you keep the petrol?"

"I'm sorry,"

"The petrol. The sign outside, it says 'Snacks and gas' but there's no pumps so where do you keep the petrol? Has no one ever asked that?"

"I think it's just a sigh mate."

"And who restocks the diner? Cos there never any delivery vans, yet the fridge is full and those slush machines are never going to run out are they. Can I have a coke."

"We don't stock coke."

"I had a peek at the fridge before you knew I was here, not the diet please, it's disgusting."

Clara, though wary, ducked down behind the counter to retrieve a can. She passed it over with some demur, her fingers wrapped around the metal till the very last minute.

"You've been watching us here." she gathered and when the woman tilted her head back for a long sip she glance over to the camera in the high corner, a silent gesture to Ashildr in the other room.

"I have a particular interest in this establishment." the woman informed her, lowering the beverage and pushing it aside, concluding that she did not like coke.

"And I have a particular interest in those who can get in here without a key."

"Oh. Well how interested will you be when you find out I that I in fact _have_ a key." she left the comment hanging, leaning back in her stool and bringing out the key from her pocket, placing it on the pocket between them.

"Only two people have this key, how did you get this."

"My name is Joanna Madrigal and I know about The Doctor, I know you used to travel with him through time and space. I know you've been using your mother's name as a pseudonym, and under that name Clara Oswald gave birth to a daughter five days ago in St Mary's hospital and left her in the Blackwood Care system,"

"Ashildr," Clara called, her eyes never leaving those of Johanna's. An unseen speaker cracked with static, "Do something clever." she ordered and the lights in the diner went black, the shutters on the windows became real. There was the sound of something sealing and then a pale blue light made them visible to one another but little else.

"I've sealed off the outer shell and prepared the vacuum. One word from you Clara and all the oxygen in that room gets sucked away." Ashildr informed over the speaker. Johanna's shock was genuine.

"You'd really risk killing yourself." she asked to Clara.

"It won't kill me. Just you, unless you tell why you came here. Because if you think you can threaten me you've got another thing coming."

"No threats," Johanna assured, "It's proof."

"Of what?"

"I work for UNIT. I have access to the Black Archive, information on the Doctor and those he's travelled with. I am also something of a liaison with the Time Academy in London. Their technology showed that there had been a TARDIS stationed here for just under nine months now. And I need you help."

"Talk,"

"It's not just your TARDIS the academy picked up. Several temporal anomalies have popped up in this area within the last year. Most of them are small and assumed non-dangerous seeing as we have a dozen student bouncing around the place at any one time but there is this one anomaly. It's an industrial district in the south. Getting bigger and we don't know what it is." she had withdrawn a small metal square, when her thumb and index finger were place in each corner it stretched to a holographic screen on the table between them, showing a map with red dots for each incident.

"This is usually the part where your superiors call The Doctor in." Clara noted, and her guest looked upwards to her.

"Well that's why I'm here... Where might he,"

"This isn't his TARDIS Johanna it's mine. The Doctor isn't here, and I've no idea where he might be." Johanna fidgeted somewhat awkwardly in her seat. Clara told no lie in her words. It had been three centuries since she last talked with him. She had seen him however, once or twice they had crossed paths, her watching he from a distance, never interfering or making her self know. Once she had watched quite a event unfold when The Doctor's visit to Jane Austen coincided with one of her own. That was a difficult day for her, restraining herself to the position of bystander when someone she loved was at risk.

"Well, your record paint you out to be quite capable in these things. Perhaps you can fill in for him."

She contemplated for a while. For Johanna, the threat of suffocation was still very real. However after a moment and from no instruction of Clara's the light's flickered back to normal, the doors unsealed with a suctiony sound and the shutters were raised. From the back room Ashildr appeared, eyeing Clara with curbed enthusiasm.

"Oh come on Clara! You wanted something interesting!"

And so their decision was made.

* * *

"I'm not saying it's not impressive," said Johanna, exiting the door that joined the TARDIS console to the outer diner. Clara and Ashildr were right behind her, "It's just not _really_ bigger on the inside. It's a diner, and it has an extra room attached. I know what a TARDIS is. Pardon if my reaction underwhelms you but I really don't know what you expect from me."

"It's not _an_ extra room. It's an infinity of room. An infinity of rooms that move through time and space. Just...I don't know. Drop you jaw. Do a lap of the exterior or something. You make It sound so mundane,"  
"Leave it Clara," urged Ashildr gently, and then directed her words to their guest, "Sorry. Sometimes she forgets we're not longer in the twenty first century. The world has moved on, and they've set a higher bar on what it takes to impress them. Evidently." Her words rang with truth. To the societal circles to whom such topics concerned, time travel, space and aliens were no longer subjects of theory only. They had been passing through an age of experimental time travel and even bigger on the inside technology was beginning to enter the world in theory. "And the outer shell does leave a lot to be desired."

"It's awesome," Clara defended.

Once she and Ashildr switched into clothes more suitable for running and near winter winds they departed. It was deep in the night when they landed, such was preferable when breaking and entering was one's intention. Ashildr hoisted a large backpack on her shoulders as Clara locked up. It was a bulbous piece of equipment, with metal prods and scanners poking out of the pockets and a secondary device she attended to in her hands. Johanna pressed forward. Not far enough to be ignorant of Clara and Ashildr's preparations, but far enough so that their discussions were distant and not a distraction. She listened, breathed in the air and heard the sounds of metal crashing against metal. Flames bellowing and sparks falling in a downwards spiral through black. The ragged breathing of a youth overwhelmed with adrenaline and fear.

"I don't think we're alone." she told the pair upon turning, "Can you hear that?" They all listened and there were some sounds carried on the wind.

"They'll be night workers in some of these factories. Others look vacant though. We'll stick together," said Ashildr, waving her handheld device about until there was a strong beeping. "We go this way," she instructed, and they followed.

Some walking and sudden turns later the trio stopped at a chained fenced. The links joined at an electric interface at waist height. Clara knelt down and pulled out from her front pocket a pair of sunglasses. Once on her face she saw every possible combination to unlock it. It zoomed across the lens as binary and with the touch of a button the glasses whirred, the interface sparked and the chain fell limp, the gate unlocked.

"Interesting glasses," said Jo after flinching from the sparks.  
"Have I finally found something that impresses you, Johanna?" Clara teased, as she pocketed her glasses.

Johanna conceded, "Perhaps,"

"It's sonic tech. And very useful." she informed, the gate swinging open unto a large vacant warehouse. They had no reason to assume this building was in frequent use, beyond the reality that every other building in the area seemed to be in frequent use. Here, there were no cars parked, not one for night labourers, cleaners or security. No allocated space for management or high ranking administrators. To the building's front were broad garage doors and to it's right were it's offices, or so assumed by the quantity of windows

"The source of the anomaly should be behind those shutters," Ashildr indicated with her head nodding towards the garage doors. Clara contemplated what could be waiting for them on the other side.

"It'll be a big room, lot's of equipment. Easy to take us by surprise,"

"Round the side then?"

"Round the side," the pair agreed. "Johanna, you stay here."

"What? I don't think so. This is my investigation, I found it and I'm going to see it through."

"This is no game!" Ashildr exclaimed in hushed anger.

"Doesn't stop you two enjoying yourselves." Johanna observed and for a moment Ashildr was silenced. But just for a moment.

"You're a liaison, a pencil pusher. There's no way you'll know what you're doing on the front line."

"Girl, compared to you I'm ancient with more than enough field experience to boot. I'm coming with you."

"Time machine," Clara countered abruptly but not unkindly, "I think you'll find we'll always have more field experience than you Jo. But okay."

"Okay?" Johanna inquired.

"You can come. But keep up and keep quiet. Ashildr does that thing have a silent mode?"

"No," she replied.

"Then ditch it outside somewhere. We go in through the offices."

The door creaked open for them to find more signs of it being an unused facility. There were desks and chairs at the reception but no equipment, coat hooks and lockers, brand new with a key still inside each slot. Ashildr silently inquired if they should turn the lights on, Clara gestured with her head no, and then put on the glasses once more.

"Ash, check upstairs. Jo and I will head into the warehouse," she whispered.

"We're splitting up?!" Johanna protested quietly, as if this was the most ridiculous thing she had heard that evening and simultaneously the most promising. Clara only acknowledged her question with a nod before they went their separate ways.

Ashildr slinked up the stair way with well practised stealth whilst Clara unlocked door after door with her glasses, trusting her companions expertise to find other ways into forbidden rooms in her absence. Their uneventful procession brought them to the warehouse, having only mistaken rats and shadows for actual threats so far Clara was feeling somewhat underwhelmed. The warehouse was large oblong stretch of empty space with three levels of walkways and railing above them leading to rooms which would certainly need exploring later. Later, as in not now. As in the moment upon entering the room her eyes were pulled helplessly to a heavenly glow against the back wall. Her legs followed, and she was kneeling at the source.

"Is that a crack in time," Johanna asked, equally enraptured by the light.

"You've studied at the academy. You tell me." Clara urged curiously, though knowing it to be true.

"A crack in space time. A fracture in the skin of the universe." she began kneeling down to be at level with Clara. Then she rubbed furiously at her eyes with her right hand, blame sinking in. "All those time travellers back at the academy. How many little paradoxes could they have caused when they went unchecked. Missed birthday's, cancelled dates, sick loved ones. Could they have caused this?"

"Humanity plus time travel." said Clara in conjecture.

"Does that label not apply to you Clara?" Johanna asked and Clara tilted her head to face her.

"No, it does. Just not completely anymore. I think," she replied with uncertainly, then stared deeply into the light. At times she thought she saw figures on the other side. Blurry silhouettes of a person, people or things. Hushed whispers drew her face closer.

"The last crack I saw, there were people on the other side. A whole planet trapped in another dimension."

"But just a dozen tiny paradoxes. Would they have such grand consequences. In theory a crack space time can lead to anywhere. Another dimension yes, but also the past, the future. Perhaps Australia is on the other side of this crack, or Belgium. Should you really be running your hands along it?" Johanna asked as Clara was doing just that.

"Not Belgium," said she as the fingers of her right hand brushing across the coarse ledge. When they were half way across they bumped into something and she withdrew her hand with a sharp gasp.  
"What? What was that? Are you all right?"Johanna asked with clinical concern. Clara was actually somewhat distressed, the first she had seen her rendered in such a state.

"I, I.. don't know. I think my hand just brushed against something, someone else's. I don't know." She shook the strangeness out of her hand and hurtled back to the crack, ear to the wall as the whispers reached out like snaky tendrils unwilling to release her until they had mutual understanding of one another. Johanna followed suit, her ear against the cold glow, each others facial features blending away in the whiteness.

"Can you hear it?" asked Clara.

"Someone's talking."

"Don't get too close!"

"I can't not, it's driving me mad all this not knowing."

"I hear... I can't hear...Crack...Fire...Run...Brie?"

"The cheese?"

"No. Shhss..." Clara scolded, then continued, "Stranger...help..."

"Danger."

"Yeah, I heard that too,"

"No." said Johanna as her breath hitched, as whilst Clara had been staring intensely into the glow, she, when not watching her, had her eyes scanning the room for possible threats or Ashildr's eventual arrival. On their way in they had stopped at many a shadow momentarily fearing it to be something else. In hindsight, perhaps some of them were. This shadow was certainly not what it seemed. For such a hulking mass she was surprised she had not heard it enter, the highest metal walkway from which it loomed over them would certainly have made a cacophony of noise with each of it's steps. Of course, she quickly realised, that meant it had been there all along. The inky shadow in the highest corner making all other shadows run and hide. How pale the night seemed when she gazed upon the shine of it's armour. Chance alone allowed her to spot it simply by the whites of it's eyes. Clara was staring at her now, not understanding why her eyes had up turned.

"No?" she inquired as to her negative. She looked around, but more importantly, looked away from Johanna. Her hair swayed revealing a glimpse of her skin and the flash of a tattoo upon her neck but that was irrelevant. This moment provided her with ample opportunity and Johanna dipped her hand into her pocket, searching for the small cylindrical item that she had been working on.

"Danger!" Johanna said again when she knew their silence was pointless. They were standing now and there was a snarl from above, the first time Clara spotted the beast and stepped backwards, startled, and into her waiting arms. Circling and angling her head to the right with her left arm, her right brushed the hair asides to expose the skin. Clara gasped and struggled, the snarl above them traded for a chorus of wet rabid growls. Johanna brought forth her tool, steadying the point in the middle zero of Clara's tattoo. It pierced the skin and Clara once again struggled against the intrusion for as long as she could. After a mere moment however her body turned limp and she dropped to the floor. Johanna lifted her into her arms, never taking her eyes of the shadow above her. The creature took it's first steps, proving itself to be humanoid in shape as the shadow dropped one foot after another down the flight of stairs. Each step sending waves of vibrations across the railings so she was surrounding by the harsh crash off metal. The sounds boxed her in, made the space feel small as the beast above drew closer.

* * *

She came to slowly. The blurry image of Johanna crouched by the door starting as three individuals then gradually settled into two, then one. She rubbed at her head groggily half trying to figure out the strange tingling she felt in it the other half simply wanting it to be gone. Johanna noticed her groan and turned to her, urging her silence with a string of shushes.

"Clara? Clara are you all right?"

"Ummm, yes. I think so."

"You took a nasty blow to the head," Johanna informed her, with one hand carefully exploring her cranium.

"I did?"

"The railings were falling down. Don't you remember?" Clara strained to think, she recalled crashing metal roaring in all four corners but she could not see herself in the memory, nor what ever knocked her unconscious. She believed Johanna to speak correctly however, and with her left hand soothed the ache at the back of her neck with little thought as to how became so sore.

"There was a shadow," Clara recalled, adjusting how she sat in the small cupboard they found themselves in. There was about three foot by three foot of space to be shared by Clara, Johanna and a mop bucket, and a series of shelves which forbade them from standing comfortably.

"It's not a shadow," said Johanna, pointing to the key hole Clara then assumed she had been watching through whilst she was out. They shuffled around, allowing Clara to peek through the hole. "Oh you're right," said Clara upon seeing the creature, "wow!" she said on an exhale. The creature was well over seven foot tall, three foot wide at the shoulder but she couldn't tell how much of that was the beast and how much was the armour it wore. It's coverings were black as pitch, bathed in whitish glow from where it stood hunched over the crack they were earlier attending. What proved it to be a creature, not machine, asides from the patches of exposed skin at the joints and it's hands, were upon it's head, whilst also enclosed in metal, the mask allowed space at it's sides for the growth of large horns of an oakish colour, pointing backward like spears a good two feet.

"Wow indeed," said Johanna.

"And we're still alive?! How come? What happened Johanna?"

"I thought it was coming for us too. It growled some, but once I stepped us aside it was more interested in the crack. Then I dragged you in here. Possible trapped us in doing so. And I've been watching it's behaviour."

"It's moving!" Clara exclaimed at the keyhole, her hand springing backward to Johanna's shoulder for support. The creature's movements were known without needing sight, there was a slight vibration in the ground that made the mop bucket rattle and those waves of shakiness travelled up their limbs and left them tingly and itchy.

"He does that every few minutes. Patrols the room, then collapses by the crack again."

"Is he guarding it?"

" Or refuling. I don't recognise the species. Do you?" asked Johanna, as she began to stand. She retrieve the small tablet device from earlier and extended a screen against the cupboard door.

"No, perhaps with out all that armour...What are you doing?" she asked Jo on a chance glance upwards.

"Entering it's characteristics into UNIT's database. See if we can find this beastie somewhere." she typed for a moment then the screen beeped indicated a negative. She closed the device, "Nothing."

"So it's new here," said Clara still looking up at Johanna. Suddenly, she began to register a wet spray against her right cheek. Her body tensed, and at the corner of her eye she saw the view of the warehouse beyond the keyhole was obstructed. Replaced with the mouth of the beast, his row of wretched canines clenched and spritzing hot saliva down the length of the keyhole with each exhale. Johanna took note of Clara's sudden stillness. "Whilst you were watching it, did it ever come to the door?" Johanna shook her head no. What happened next did so in less than a moment. As a rippling mannish roar thoomed on the other side of the door, Johanna was startled to her knees, allowing her to avoid the fist that then followed. The pillar of armoured flesh ripped through the wood that separated them, showering the cowering pair in a coating of fresh dust and splinters. It was withdrawn with some difficulty, the wood snagging at dents and exposers, granting the women a small window of reprieve.

"We're being attacked in a cupboard any ideas on how to get out?!"

"We're in a cupboard, there is no way to get out. Why would you think that?! Why did you think this would be a good place to hide?!" They could scarcely hear each other over the sounds of splintering wood. When the fist pulled away she caught the tail end of Clara's mumblings. "Can't die, can't die" she seemed to say to herself.

"All that talk about field experience and you've got nothing?! Seriously? Time and space, the Doctor's assistant, was I lied to because I was kind of told you were brilliant, now we have an alien knocking down our door and your not thinking of a plan to win this?"

The next impact was lower, an armour knee poking through at eye level. The pair flinched again, their backs jostling against the mop and bucket before struck an idea and it showed on her face as a wide eyed smile.

"Does a mop and bucket constitute a plan?"

"If you use it right."

"Okay then," began Clara, encouraged to work fast as the sound of their assailants knee withdrawing spoke of the doors imminent collapse. She relieved the bucket of it's mop and arranged her self so that she was lying straight in the small space, her back arching upwards against the wall, her feet pressed against the foot of the door and the mop end angled upwards and ready to strike.

"Stay low. If this works I'll reach back in and grab you, just be ready to run."

The air whistled with the oncoming fist, the door splitting from the force as the armour arm made it's appearance once more. That was when Clara thrusted the mop upwards, the wooden end catching in a crook as she saw the splinters had earlier and she drove the armour fist upwards and forwards. The body of the beast soon followed and the door was no more. Clara used the force of it's fall to propel herself under the shower of splinters and between the beast's arched legs. That was when she heard it's howl, a pained noise and a promising sound. She had hoped the beasts strength would give them an advantage, hoped it's fist would become stuck in the concrete wall as it had the door but she had no time to see if this was true. Reaching back under the armoured archway she grabbed Johanna hand and pulled her to safety. Both incredibly relieved they allowed laughter to overtake them for a moment, before charging up the stair way to the unexplored rooms to form a plan.

* * *

Her feet padded silently through the upper corridors, her body recalling lessons learnt eons ago even as her mind allowed those lessons to fall away. Armed with a hair pin she had forced her way into several locked rooms before she reached this final flight of steps. All had been empty and she expected to find more of the same. The stair led only to a door on the upper most floor. There was no landing or corridor, just a single door with yet another electric panel to break through before entering. She wielded her pin, the metal already contorted for the purpose, into the grooves of the screws that kept the panel in one piece. It came away to expose the wiring which she cracked with ease expected of a practised burglar breaking into a mediocre domestic security system. There was an affirming beep, which to an amateur at the art might prove gratifying. Ashildr opened it with deflated enthusiasm, her hopes of a good night waning after the fifth bare room. She wondered how Clara was faring, but thoughts of Clara led her to thoughts of Johanna, and then an internal rant on UNIT's competency if this anomaly proves to be a something and too late, or nothing and a waste of time. Why only Johanna? Why not a whole team? Ashildr began but put the thoughts on hiatus as the room proved to have a more curious air to it than she expected. It was a single room spanning the whole floor with not a speck of furniture save for one item which she found herself walking to. Against the back wall, centre place was a single filing cabinet, about four feet high and forest green from what she could detimine from the moonlight pouring in on two sides. Each draw had a simple lock, requiring a key, no electricity and so Ashildr sacrificed more pins and with them all hope of hair symmetry. When she was inside the first draw she saw it filled to the brim with files and paper work. Nothing she could read properly in such poor light but she grabbed a handful, about three files and sat under the window where the moon shone through. The first file was thick, on the first page she was drawn to a set of photos, each showing the same boy, first as an infant, the second as a toddler and the third a boy about eight. Beneath them, and for pages after, was information, his birth date, weight and height, school information, several pages of notes, she set it aside. On to the second. A much thicker file, the first page showing a photo set of female from childhood to adult year. She saw similar information scanning through, with the addition of occupational data, a page devoted to the list of names under the heading 'sexual partners', and most interestingly a death date, last year, so Ashildr observed. Her nerves were beginning to get to her, she lifted her head away from the file, feeling just how much space there was in the room, how empty it was and how dark it was in all four corners desipite the moon, or perhaps a cloud had obscured it's rays because Ashildr could not help but feel the darkness grow heavier and her isolation amplified, her every vulnerability exposed as she sat solo in the moonlight with a file in her lap. A file of a life observed in it's entirety, and a cabinet full of lives in the shadows to her left. Naturally, a young woman outgrows the superstition of her childhood, spirits did not lurk in the shadows waiting to pounce, but live long enough and that superstition is replaced with reality. It may not be a spiteful spirit lurking with her, but as she poured over the pages once more finding more intimate details, everything but a name, she realised there was someone out there, be they curious alien or human psychopath, who was watching people lives day in day out. And it was here, in this room, where he made his notes, filed his records, where he would inevitably return but when? Was he here now? She felt her childhood guide her and slowly, dreadfully peaked behind her, half fearing the psychopath or spirit was outside the window, above her, scowling down at her as she soiled his plans, whatever they may be. But instead she saw only the moon, as pale and ethereal as she always was and her fears abated. She rationalised, objectified until she was sure of her safety. She would inform Clara of this later, as the vacant warehouse with a cabinet of lives certainly warrants suspicion. Closing the file and setting it aside, she had forgotten she had picked up a third, she had also remembered there was an anomaly to investigate and almost didn't peer inside. Once she did, only a single photo fell in her lap, no pages, no data. She rose it up into the light so she could read it's colours properly but once she had that light receded and he was behind her in the window again, leering downwards as dread filled her head to toe. Or it could've been a cloud. She begged it was a cloud. In the photo was her and Clara, taken without their notice as they dined at a cafe. Clara in this photo was still heavily pregnant, and this proved to be important to their photographer. Turning it over, on the blank side was written,

"One week to wait!"

She felt the photo crumple in her hands, fierce protection being the consequence of three centuries of companionship after ages of loneliness and fleeting friends. He was still behind her though: the cloud-spirit-psychopath wrapping his fingers around her throat, savouring a slow kill, and she was dying, she knew what dying felt like, she had been close to it so many times. The vibrations woke her from her stillness, each wave accompanied by a thoom that brought her back into reality. She stared at the photo quizzically, then at the files and the shadows in all four corners but never behind her. The light returned and of course this meant the clouds had parted but some small part of her still feared a man was out their having ducked down beneath the glass allowing her to escape in some villainous interpretation of mercy. Another wave a movement motivated her to her feet, abandoning all she had found except that which she held in her memories. Towards the door and down the stairs she headed, never looking back. She pushed her thoughts towards Clara. Clara's in trouble. Clara's far away. Johanna is- No not her, she not important right now! Clara. Clara. Clara! It was working, it drove her forwards. Not once did she think back to the shadows she left behind, nor hear to door clink shut when she was far from the handle.

* * *

They closed the door with haste, and built a barricade.

"It's still coming after us this won't hold it off," Johanna observed as they both hauled a L shaped desk towards the entrance. Clara took one look at their resources and agreed, it really wouldn't. Johanna scrabbled for the second desk whilst Clara turned her attention to one of the windows. With her face pressed against the glass pane she could see a ledge about a foot wide a small distance below their window. Finished with the second desk, Johanna turned to see Clara thrusting a chair's legs into the glass, shattering it with a crystalline smash.

"What are you doing?!"

Clara was clearing the lower edge of it's sharp glass shards when she replied.

"There's a ledge, and a tree we can climb down. Once we've put some real distance between us and that thing, we can circle round and fetch Ashildr."

"She's young. You think she'll be alright on her own."

"She's more than capable. Come on. Stay close."

Clara tested her weight on the ledge with one foot before both, and she soon shuffled along the makeshift walkway with ease. Johanna followed with little reluctance or hesitation, admirable, so Clara thought, considering there was a fall of several storeys one wrong step away. The ledge continued to the end of the building and presumably circled it entirely. Once at the corner Clara could reach out to a sturdy branch belonging to an tall ageing tree which grew in another warehouse's territory.

"Once we're down, I want you to wait outside." Clara told her on their descent.

"I'm not leaving you alone."

"I won't be alone. I'll have Ashildr. Watch the entrances. If it gets out contact UNIT. If it doesn't, and we're not out in an hour, contact UNIT. Understood?"

"Contact UNIT. Understood." she begrudgingly agreed, dropping down from a branch into low bushes and autumn leaves. Clara followed suit, and on the other side of the fence they looked back at the factory, ominous and lightless it stood, now with a touch of vandalism thanks to Clara's hand. Within those walls a violent force prowled and Ashildr was completely ignorant to it's presence. To think of it made her heart feel caged and burdened. The worry was evident on her face, as she peered through the bars to the entrance they all took, her lower lip suffered quite the biting.

"She's still in there." she said to the air.

* * *

As she got closer, she increased her caution. The vibrations had subsided moments ago and questing for their source was like blundering hopelessly through a maze, they touched every corner of each room she entered and seemed to be coming from everywhere at once. But once she reached the large open warehouse she was certain this was the source. By the time she had entered, there were no goings on for her to observe or assist, that's not to say nothing piqued her interest. She was torn between what she found more alarming; the small cupboard that had been absolutely obliterated or the other worldly crack glowing on the bare. She settled on the crack, after confirming that within the remains of the side room her friend of many years and their new acquaintance had not been reduced to a bloody pulp in her absence. She looked on it with understanding of what it was, but not how it came to be. About two feet away from the crack, still within it's glow was something very familiar but also very out of place. When she approached she picked it up with puzzlement. In her hand she held her scanner, the same one she had left outside, severely aged, battered and augmented. The casing had been removed and put back together, to make room for a bunch of new circuits and gizmos inside. It didn't reseal properly, nor sit comfortably in her hand. But she had left her scanner outside?! How long must it have been abandoned for it to have returned to her through this crack? She asked herself these things when the tips of her ears were teased with a whisper. At that whisper all thoughts left her and she was left feeling blank intrigue towards the crack. She was about to lean closer as the nature of the unclear whispering urged her to do, when her attentions was snapped away by the recurrence of the thooming beats. Vibrations struck up to her knees, her legs locked and froze, instinct, but she willed herself to dive for the shadows and out of the glow of the incriminating light. It did her little good, as the beast plodded onwards in it's pursuit and joined her in the shadows. Enveloped in darkness, the beast was nothing but it's white eyes trapped behind a mask and the stink of it's breath as it let out a hoarse, horrifying scream.

The scream turned her brisk walk into a frantic run. Clara shoved open the main door with the point of her elbow, and she did this for each door afterwards, a dozen doors until she came to a screeching halt in the warehouse. Perplexed, was her expression, on seeing Ashildr unharmed, the beast lulled into a peacefully rocking motion, the pair of the them sat with their backs against the wall as if the crack was the plush back of a sofa, not a tear in reality. Ashildr met her gaze and beckoned her forwards with the movements of her hand. Each step was taken tentatively, Clara filled with unease even when she was on her knees between the pair of them and Ashildr passed her the device. The beasts head followed it's path from one human to the other. It beeped in her hand and Ashildr then explained,

"It's an anaesthetic, that beeping. It soothes him."

"Why does he need soothing," Clara eyed the beast, who in turned eyed his hands, the huge meaty paws moving in a manner odd to them but amusing to the man they were attached too. His throaty chuckle could almost seem menacing if it wasn't paired with the Clara's sheer relieve that his wasn't trying to kill them.

"The plates causes him pain, this metal." Ashildr reached out, cautiously, to the black plates of his shoulder. When he didn't flinch she stroked him gently. "It been growing non stop. Trapping him in his own skin,"

"So you've been lashing out," Clara addressed the beast with renewed sympathy. The beast, swimming in the anaesthetic, paid her no attention. Clara was shaking her head, still reeling in half knowledge. "How did you know what to do? You're scanner it's..."

"His doctor's on the other side of this crack,"

"Doctor?" Clara heard and all other words were a blur.

"His." Ashildr repeated, and with her hand requested the scanner back, "She could send through his but the cracks are only one way or so I'm told."

"We've got the TARDIS we can find him another doctor. Would you like that?" Clara made contact, patting her hand firmly against the plates of his chest.

"No," said Ashildr, whipping the smile from her face.

"No?" asked Clara.

"There's no where we can send him. He's the only one of his kind. He'd be experimented on before they think to help him."

"Then we can look after him."

"Really?!" Ashildr inquired and all too soon wished she wasn't so blunt.

"Yes really!" said Clara angrily, "We've got the space, we've got an infinite lifespan. What's a century to you and me, it's nothing! They'll be dead and dust in the time it takes for you to blink!"

"Clara, it's not-"

"Not what?! What is it Ashildr? Why do you always insist on us travelling alone?!"

"Wait what?!" Ashildr exclaimed, her point lost to Clara in the way of relevance. She stammer onwards, "I've just been trying to-"

"Turn me into you?! Yes, I've noticed that! You think I'm so fragile, that I'm so.. And you talked me into..." she trailed off, realising the tears that had began to form In her eyes and instantly tried to halt their occurrence. Ashildr knew where she was heading, where she was placing her blame. The photo she had memorised, taken at a cafe they frequented, where they discussed options and Ashildr, in an out pour of emotion she now felt selfish for unleashing, spoke of her own children, losing them to time, those who's faces were a featureless mask of pink, those who's likeness she had sketched in her diaries , and those conceived by accident and not done away with in the years where she felt more secure in her immortality. She wanted to protect Clara from the inevitable hurt, she knew this from the moment she said 'wiggle room', but she never wanted her influence to drive her to regret. He voice was torn away from the onslaught of her anger, but she was saved from response when she observed that this was a matter Clara had not intended to bring about. There was still the matter of the beast however.

"Clara we don't have as much time as you think, we can discuss this over our diaries later."

"I'm sorry." Clara said abashedly.

"Don't be, It's okay."

"It's just been a long day," she continued.

"I understand," said Ashildr, and when Clara looked to her she understood that she really did. That whatever regrets she might have kindled she shared them with her, and that was no small consolation.

"And about travelling alone..." Ashildr began and Clara took on a bemused face, having assumed they'd put this topic to rest, "-I'm not opposed to you having a pet." Clara spluttered something like a laugh, now picturing she and Ashildr with a dozen dogs in the diner watching a supernova through the glass windows. The beast gave a heady groan and Clara's concern was relit.

"What did you mean we don't have much time?"

"My scanner wasn't built for anaesthetic frequencies, even with the alterations the circuits will burn out if we use it much longer. Then he'll lash out and he won't stop until someone kills him."

Clara watched as his groans became more painful, gone was his fascination with his hands and he balled them into fists, his body still rocking steadily.

"How long have we got?"

"Minutes."

"And what should we do?"

"Johanna doesn't carry a weapon on her by any chance does she?"

"I didn't see one. And UNIT won't be here for over an hour. Is killing him really our only option."

"He'll only have a short life in pain if we let him loose. I have an idea that might make this painless or a hell of a lot worse."

"Go on then."

"The crack is a window to several places, not just his hospital. If I boost the frequency, a short blast of strong anaesthetic, and throw it into the crack he'll follow it and the energy would painlessly tear him apart."

"That doesn't sound like a friendly way to go. How could It be worse?"

"The energy doesn't tear him apart and instead drops him off on some unsuspecting time period with no anaesthetic."

"What are our chances."

"50, 50"

Both Clara and Ashildr lean back in contemplation. They both surveyed their patient, Clara wondered how much of their discussion had he understood, the TARDIS wasn't translating his groans into words of meaning. She chose to conclude this meant he was just a beast, an animal, or livestock, it made what they were deciding that much easier than if he had an opinion of his own for them to consider. He wailed once more, Clara turned to Ashildr who was turning down the frequency on the scanner. She tilted her head in question.

"It's overheating." she answered. They had not much time left.

"Let's do it then."

At her instruction Ashildr stood to her feet, Clara followed and the two put some distance between them and the beast. A test to see if their patient would indeed follow the scanner. He did, slowly, staggeringly, with a string of suffering on his hoarse voice. Ashildr made it quick. Abandoning Clara at the far end of the warehouse, once passed the beast she increased the frequency to lure him in and once his was two meters close to the glowing tear she threw it in. The beast wailed and hurried his stride, desperate for his medicine forever out of reach. Head first he dove into the crack, the light gobbling him up until his armoured legs had vanished, the vibrations from his steps faded to nothing and Clara and Ashildr were left standing in an abandoned warehouse with nothing but the shadows for company.

* * *

Once the beast was gone fixing the crack was a relatively text book affair. Ashildr retrieved her bag and scanner from a spot she had hid them in outside and did something clever that involves a lot of button pressing and dial turning from the gadgets in her bag. Confident that the warehouse was free of all things extraterrestrial, Clara and Johanna were beginning their walk back to the TARDIS. Clara no doubt filling Johanna in on what had passed and Johanna's face practically lit up as Clara described the beast, how he looked in the light. Ashildr held back a while longer. Left with the shadows and silence, she fidgeted with the scanner in her hand, a much more slim and sophisticated device to that she had use to lure the beast to his death but it was the same device through and through. Almost without thought she found herself treading up the office stair case once more to the room with nothing but a filing cabinet. The moon still poured in on two sides, unobscured by clouds, and the shadows in the corners were just shadows. She approached the cabinet. Glancing over to where she sat under the window, she saw the files had vanished. The cabinet draw was shut and locked and the clouds over the moon returned, the air heavy and oppressive. She halted her invasions, a tendril of childish fear creeping into her bones but she shook it away. She had killed a man this evening. There was no child in her. She held her scanner. A sleek device, reliable. Someday, someone here was going to need it. And with that in mind she placed it neatly on top of the cabinet. _If not_ , she thought onwards, _I can easily make another._

* * *

It was not a silent walk back to the TARDIS. Johanna bombarded her with all sorts of questions about the beast, his appearance, his estimated weight, estimated height, estimated ecosystem of origin. The small spark of enthusiasm she had seen her bear towards alien life had blazed into a raving bonfire that she couldn't help but be pulled in by. Soon they were both discussing species they had both encountered, and a few Johanna had not. By the time they approached the TARDIS they were both pleasantly spent for conversation, and returned to more immediate matters, Clara feeling to rush to `fetch the key from her pocket.

"So what are you going to write in your report, if you hardly got a glimpse of it." Clara inquired curiously.

"I'll just have to forward what you told me. A shame it had to die. I would've loved to have spoken with it. If it was even capable of speech."

"I don't think it was. Just an animal in pain."

"Well not anymore. What you did wasn't necessarily a bad thing Clara. It was a kindness."

"Perhaps. But I don't think it's over."

"How come?"

"Ashildr said there was a 50% chance the beast would survive the crack and wind up in another time zone. That's a 50% chance that we got it wrong."

"But you can make it right. You've got a time machine and plenty of technology."

"I think we might just do that. And if we do..."

"What?" Johanna asked as to her unspoken words.

"Do you want to come with us?" The words were out, and Clara was waiting.

"Come with you?" was the replied, and Clara felt the overwhelming need to rush the words that followed.

"To find it. The beast I'm mean. It's a new species to add to the UNIT databases and you helped out when my head got hit. Of course it'll mean travelling through time and space, and we don't always land where we want to first time round and... and. Err. What do you think?"

Johanna smiled for a while. It was a kind smile, made of warm rouge lips and a hint of something else in the eyes she couldn't pin point. Her answer made her sigh in relief.

"I think I'd like that Clara."

"Oh good. Now we just need to break the news to Ashildr"

"Talk of the devil," Johanna nodded at Ashildr's approach. She did not look friendly in her face. The evening had taken a toll on her and what was, for the most part, and impatient desire for sleep was, by Johanna, being interpreted as an expressed dislike of her continued presence. She thought this even more so when Clara informed her.

"Why are still waiting out here?" Ashildr asked, as the three of them were standing outside the diner and the wind was bitter.

"We were just talking," Clara began, "about how Johanna's going to come with us to track down this alien."

"Is she?" inquired Ashildr, he face dumbfounded.

"Yes, I thought it'll be good for UNIT to get more field knowledge and besides you said you wouldn't so no to company." she had in fact said 'pets' but Clara altered that for appearance's sake.

"Of course," Ashildr conceded, her tone forcibly chipper. "Let's get her inside side then, we've got a beast to find."

* * *

(Some time later)

Johanna was carrying a box in hand, an assortment of objects within. None of them here but she had claimed them as her own for the sake of research. They were mostly books from the library and stationary from wherever she could find it, and she was carrying it to her room which she intended to devote to cataloguing all the aliens and creatures of interest they stumbled upon on their travels. Clara had already taken her to her first planet; a largely green world where trees were towering crystal structures, she had a sample somewhere in her box. She was carrying them to her room when she was diverted by the strange sound of a bird calling. She entered the strange room, one she had not stumbled across before and found it largely empty save for a raven caged and set of clothes suspended in a glass cylinder. It intrigued her enough for her to set the box aside and she approached the bird which thrashed widely in it's cage.

"The TARDIS shouldn't have let you in here." she turned, Ashildr was leaning in the door frame, eyeing her with a uneasy glare. She could think only of the bird.

"A raven shouldn't be kept in a cage this small."

"He's not a raven, he's an alien, perhaps you'd want to catalogue him. And his cage is bigger than it looks. Or do you still believe this TARDIS is just a room attached to another room?"

She did not answer, her mind still set on the raven.

"He's frustrated."

"It's Clara."

"Clara?"

"I just left her in the hallway. She confuses him."

"That's a strange thing to say about a bird."

"I told you he's an alien."

"An alien that looks like a bird. I'm just keeping things simple Ashildr. That's a nice outfit," she said with a nod to the glass cylinder.

"You can't touch it."

"...I wasn't intending to."

"In fact I don't think you should be in this room at all. I think it's time I told you some rules they'll be on my ship."

"You're ship?!"

"First rule, you never enter this room. Never again, Even if the TARDIS leads you here and he will, you walk away, leave what's in here alone. Understood."

"Last I checked Clara was the woman in charge."

"Rule number two!" Ashildr intoned more forcefully, "The room at the back of the library with the statues on either side of the door you never go in there either under any circumstances. Rule number three...Well, I'll think of that later. Have you any questions?"

The silence lingered between them. Johanna eyeing down Ashildr's pointed glare with her own deadfaced disappointment.

"Have I done something to make you so hostile to me Ashildr. Or do you just not want a third person in your's and Clara's little relationship."

"What?!"

"Because me being on board is strictly professional. It's a chance for me to learn not..er. Other stuff."

"Me and Clara are not in love!" she countered feeling a hot flush in her check at the thought.

"I never suggested you were." Johanna defended, circling around to her box still some distance from Ashildr so she wouldn't seem confrontational. "I just happened to notice you and her share a bond. I don't know how it started and I'll accept it's none of my business. But how long have you been travelling that it was just the two of you. Do you remember what it was like to be away from each other? When was that? What was it like?"

 _Eons of loneliness,_ her mind said. "I'm not in love," was her response.

"But you don't like sharing her do you?"

Ashildr thought back to what Johanna had said, they shared a bond, she and Clara. She knew that to be true. It was quite affirming to hear it from someone else's voice rather than her own mental ramblings but she didn't dare confess that to this interloper.

"We're the same." she told her, it was 'shared a bond' in her own words.

"And what is that sameness?" Johanna inquired, Ashildrs last comment striking her still.

Ashildr smiled and said, "It's complicated." and then she turned to leave, "besides I won't have to share her for long. I only need to blink my eyes apparently."

"How's your neck this morning?" asked Johanna, and Ashildr whipped her head around at the odd question.

"My neck?" she felt the skin beneath her hairline.

"Yes, your neck. You were rubbing it red raw last night. How's it this morning?"

"It's fine, thanks." she replied, her eyebrows never unscrunching at the strangeness even as she was far down the corridor.

Johanna gave a parting nod to the raven, and with her box continued onwards to her room.


	2. An Industrial Mourning Pt 1

**AN: okay, so maybe not less parts just bigger, hopefully better parts. Pt 1 of an Industrial Mourning. Description: This particular company has an extremely high turnover. Why is that? Ask a doctor.**

 **Also, I know nothing about engineering and only a little about the homeless experience from what a friend of mine chose to share. Everything else is completely pulled out of the vacant space that is my brain.**

* * *

(Year:2362)

Motion lights overhead lit there procession through the office hallways in there evening hours. Ms Maple spared glances into each room she passed, wary of other workers, given the one trailing behind her was spilling out a cascade of matters sensitive to their trading affairs in a display of teary distress. A distress she then shared, making eye contact with a female employee through the window of the door, bent over her desk in reach of stationary. She changed her face to one of fearsome authority and the employee averted her gaze and returned to her labours like a bludgeoned hound cowering to it's basket. Ascending a flight of steps, her employee was still hot on her heels; the young man breathing frantically in a grotesque display of emotion.

"Ms Maple, surely you can't be a part of this. All these months, how many have I shipped? How many people?"

"Tobias, when we employed you you assured us we'd have your 100% cooperation not to interfere with these matters. Return to your work now, and I'll convince our employer to keep the repercussions minimal." She opened the door on the final step, the side panel beeping positively to the presence of her hand. They entered.

"Repercussions?! I don't care about your repercussions! This is trafficking! Illegal! Immoral! Completely absurd!" Ms Maple approached her desk. Resting back in the leather chair she shifted around the contents of her desk so that she and Tobias had a clear line of sight. "The police will side me on this. They will! They'll know I was ignorant. I knew nothing."

"You still know nothing and you came to me, not the police. If you really thought that was an option you would've gone straight away."

"I needed to know."

 _You know nothing, and yet you still know too much._ Ms Maple pondered her options. "Know what?" she inquired, her painted fingers clawing into the wood of her desk.

"Why? Why all those bodies? What kind of people trade in corpses?"

"Oh Toby," she sighed, deciding his fate, "The kind of people who aren't people at all."

He paused, trying to discern the meaning of her words, but before he could reach a conclusion it was presented before him. It had vaguely occurred to him that he had never been in this room before, though, as a van driver, there were many rooms he had no reason to enter. There was a strangeness to this one however that her was only just beginning to pick up on; the eerie air he had shunned earlier in the frenzy of his distress. It was a long room, with Ms Maple's desk being the centre piece, the two walls where there were windows housed a long row of cabinets, each identical to the other and no higher than the window sill. The other two walls were an oddity. Where most business men and women might hang awards, photos or something decorative, these wall were hidden behind a massive black curtain. From floor to ceiling, wall to wall they covered, supporting themselves as there was no rail for them to hang on. He would not have noticed them had they not began to move, the bottom half fluttering in a breeze he did not feel.

"Perhaps it's time you met our business partner." Ms Maple intoned from behind her desk. The upper parts of the curtains left their corners and succumbed to gravity around a three figures, six foot when standing. From the fabric of their heads came two pale orbs glowing brighter. Their eye's burning through the fabric, melting it, or revealing their faces for what they really were, he could not tell. When the light of their eyes became pale once more their faces resembled blackened pork crackling, with a short sharp beak where lips would be on a human and slanted oval eyes. Next he noted their talons, but only when they entered his chest, stealing his breath, his voice, and soon after his life. Ms Maple reclined into her seat, one manicure finger working the intercom and she summoned the cleaner to her door as the three creatures gorged themselves and she resolved to try a new tactic.

 **(** **watch?v=aksxZTPx7PU -couldn't resist)**

* * *

At 10 am the bus had arrived. Pulling into the factory and parking itself within it's grounds. Out poured a herd of children all in their first decade of life, dressed in their school attire. A ageing man fronted the herd, alongside three assistants to accompany the children. They were greeted by a thick mist, harbouring the scent of industry; sweat, smoke and a mix of things metallic. His children were rowdy, a trio of boys having already wondered off from the main group, throwing a school bag between them whilst the other children were being shepherded into a column three kids wide. He approached them, exasperation in each stride.

"Mathew, Aston, Zachery, back in line with the others!" he scolded on his approached and one boy halted from play.

"We don't want to be here Mr Cropper. It's boring and the air stinks like Aston's pits!"

"I don't smell!" the boy Aston turned in protest, but badly timed were his movements, and the bag they had been throwing collided with the side of his head. Knocked to the ground he cupped his ear, crying as the other pair laughed on.

"That's enough. That's enough!" Cropper ordered and the boys heeded his words dismissively. He hauled the fallen boy to his feet by the fabric of his sleeve. "Fall in line with the others! And keep quiet or I'll keep you after school, have you got that!" The boys nodded and followed the wave of their teachers hand to the other students.  
"Such insolent boys you're managing Mr Cropper." said a low female voice, it's owner approaching him from around the corner of the warehouse.

"Ms Maple, is it?" she nodded, " A couple of Blackwood boys, you know what they're like. Aston's fallen in with a rotten lot. Thanks for accepting us on such short notice. I think these kids can really benefit from a look inside a real working environment" They shook hands. Ms Maple was a women deep into her forties, heavily groomed and apparelled for formality a school visit did not warrant. Their hand shake was brief, she breaking off first, something about the man's more sagely appearance, his hair a flurry of black and greys, his face a mask of wrinkles, it repelled her and she felt the urge to clean her hand.

"It's a matter of mutual interest Cropper. No doubt these boys and girls will be working for me as my cooperation expands. Coal hill's got quite the reputation for flooding the pool of unskilled labourers," she spat past her painted smile, "I've got one of your girls in the back pretending to be an engineer. Sometimes convincingly. So what have you brought for me today." she peaked past his shoulder to the children, lined up like toy soldiers in their little red blazers. Her eyes stopped at each child, attempting to ascertain their strengths and weakness at a glance.

"As humbling as it is for you to greet us Ms Maple," Mr Cropper earned back her attention, "We weren't expected you to attend to our tour with your very own person."

"I won't be. I'm a very busy woman," she informed him, " but our PR drone is under repair. I was just directing our new member of staff to his first duty. Ah!" she pronounced with a sharp click of her fingers. They both turned towards the entrance where a squirely young man with short cut hair and thin framed rectangular glasses made an appearance. He was flipping rapidly through papers on a clipboard when he noticed them. "Here he comes now. I trust he'll take care of you. Enjoy your tour."

Momentarily taken back by his bosses departure, the young man approached the older one and offer him his hand. It was his turn to be repelled now, the youth was sweating, his words spilling out in quick succession.

"Edward Finley. New PR representative for BW incorporated. If we're all set out here. We can begin our tour."

After greeting the class their representative ushered them into the side building, a pillar of offices decked with with workers in black and white attire, hunched over desks, printers and water coolers. The staff were as dismal and uninterested in their work as the children were to watch them. Interest was only sparked when they were shown the staff room, as this was furnished with a snooker table that saw frequent use. Their guide offered them dry information about the company; it's short but successful history, how far their contacts stretched. Cropper noticed that the lad was reading from a script, he didn't ask if the students had question( not that they would. He knew the nature of his students). Presumably the paper on his clip board did not imply that it was a possibility from their guests.

However his students did show a spark of interest when they were shown the warehouse on the institution. It was a long room with two long conveyor belts running from their source, hidden away in the back wall, to several piles of boxed stock by the large warehouse doors. There were several stations along the belt. One where a hovering drone with a crane attachment placed items into a box, another where a drone taped the box shuts, and several stations where people check for quality and loaded them onto wagons. On the floor was a line of yellow paint. On this line they stayed, walking across the warehouse floor to all points of interest but out of the way of machinery and workers alike.

"This is the heart of the place," Their guide Finley informed. Several children were staring upwards, taking in the height of the building with a gasps, there were three floors of railing above them. "You'll notice there's not as many people as there are in the offices but this is where the real work gets done. Orders are sorted in the back room over there," He pointed to the back wall and a solid red door.

"Can we go in?" one child called. He flicked through his sheets, searching for a answers.

"No," he eventually replied, "Sorry, selected staff only."

They continued their tour, rounding the two conveyor belts to the left side of the hall. It was much the same as the right, same in appearance, same number of staff at their stations, same work going on.

Tucked away in a spacious corner between stacks of boxed orders and a fire exitinguisher, Brianna passively noticed the procession of children moving across the floor. A trio of boys at the back of the line were pushing and shoving. One boy fall back against the conveyor belt, a loose hanging from his bag caught in the machine jamming it. Red lights blared as the machine came to an abrupt halt. She giggled to herself, safe in her hidden corner whilst other members of staff attended to the boy and his embarrassed teachers.

"See that over there," she said to a familiar male colleagues who stepped off a forklift truck and passed her by. He acknowledged her with a nod, a humoured grin of his own painting his face. " _That_ is why I am never having children." He agreed with her and they discussed small things before work pulled them apart.

The commotion was largely resolved now, Mr Cropper allowing another teaching assistant to scold Aston and Mathew. He was about to offer his apologies to their guide when his turning brought his eyes into line with the corner under the railings, and the woman working within it.

"Brianna? Brianna Blackwood?" the sound of her name, the sound of his voice? Something brought a redness to her cheeks. She turned away from her work; her work seeming to involve having her arm deep in the inner working of what he assumed was their botched PR drone. It was a sphere like machine with a smaller sphere beneath the main body. On it were two light intent on resembling human eyes. They sort of did, or so Cropper thought, angry, glowering red eyes smeared in bubbling black oil

The woman was much fairer in appearance; her face round and bright, her hair a chestnut brown streaked with blonde and splotched with black from the oil, tied back in a simple tail for the practicality her work must demand. It was indeed a woman he recognised from when she was a girl. A hot-headed arrogant girl with her head in the clouds and her hand in the cookie jar. Oh, the headaches she caused him. Over a decade on and the wounds were still sore. "It really is you."

She stammered her response, not fulling recollecting hum.

"Children, wait where you are," he instructed and they turned to the pair of them.  
"Is something the matter," their guide inquired, "We really must be going. And Miss Blackwood can't be spared from her work."

"Oh we won't be a minute. I thought I might asked some questions on behalf of the children, listen closely now. Besides I use to teach this woman in mathematics," he watched as recognition claimed her features, "Brianna, these children are on a tour, you may have noticed. You yourself were a Coal Hill student, please, tell us what you do here."

She was hesitant, unprepared. She passed a look to Edward that begged him to take them away but he shrugged his shoulder, the unfamiliarity paralysing him also. The herd of children boxed her in, there was nothing she could do but answer.

"I er, fix and maintain the machines. And there cheap buggers so they do that all the time." she waved her hand towards the drone she was fixing but, mistaking her strength with the onslaught of nerves, knocked it from it's perch on the side board and the machine clattered to the floor, loose nuts and bolts scattering into the shadows and oil pooling on the floor. A round of laughter from the children. Cropper continued regardless.  
"I see and...how much experience do you have with this firm."

"I started last month," she replied, working to steady the drone back on it's table. She ran her fingers through her hair once she succeeded, ruefully forgetting the oil that soaked her hands.

"A month!" Mr Cropper exclaimed, "How old must you be now, 28?What have you done with your self, between Coal Hill and last month? Did you join the army? Have you opened that cafe you use to talk about? How much of the world have you seen Brianna? Oh no, wait. Those were just passing fancies, my apologies. What was it you really wanted to be when you grew up? I can't recall."

"Mr Cropper, I wanna be a fire truck when I grow up," a child told him and he ignored.

"Listen, I've really got to get back to my work. I'm sure..." Finley took the hint and had already persuaded a pair of the assistants to continue the tour when the voice of God abruptly halted them.  
"Finley!" called Ms Mapel from the highest of the railing above them. She stood with a second figure, a shorter person whose face was hidden under a grey hoodie. "What's caused a pause in the tour."

"Mr Cropper, Ma'am. He had some questions for Miss Blackwood." Finley stuttered to above.

"And she's being cooperative? Let her know we can replace her in a heart beat." Finley relayed the message to her, across the flock of children, with her friends and colleagues in earshot. Inevitably, she drew some attention.

"When I was younger," she began hesitantly, _sigh, when I was younger._ The answer was more than a touch embarrassing. "I wanted to be a time traveller."

"A time traveller?!" one of the children called out, they didn't even try to stifle their giggles, a few of her colleagues did, or wore adoring smiles she found a touch patronizing.

"Well." he addressed her, "I'd ask what went wrong there, but even my children know the academy has some standards. What's that Miss Audrey?" he turned to one of the other teaching assistants, "Ah, yes. We really must be on our way. Good luck Miss Blackwood," And with that they were off, up the railings and out the top door. She was left in her typical workplace solitude, in the shadows with her machines and her oil soaked hair.

Not long after Cropper passed her by the alarm called for lunch. All but her left the warehouse floor, she staying, knowing the extra damage she had caused to the drone would have to be repair before the days end or she could well lose her jobs. She had her hand once more in the inner workings, poking aside slick wire with the point of her screwdriver.

"It's not a problem in the tubing." Brianna jumped at the unexpected voice, loosing her screwdriver in the drones hollow space. She turned to her intruder. The care taker was moping the puddle of oil she'd been standing. He didn't regard her shoes, and they too got a moping "If it's was a leak in the tubing the oil would leak in spritz's not pour all over the floor. Check the drum, that's where your problem is."

"I've checked the drum. It's fine." she told him dismissively, purposely ignoring the old man in hopes he'd let her sink back into peace.

"Black oil, black metal, dark robot. Check again." he urged her once more, his tone carrying a touch of arrogance or blind insensitivity that made her double take and a small bubble of anger to form in her chest. It must of shown on her face as when she for the first made eye contact with the man strange to her, he was taken aback, his face purposefully softening and only then did she realise she had greeted him with a hellish scowl. "Try using this." his voice was lighter now and he passed her...something.

"...What's this?" she inquired after holding the object for a pause. At first she thought it some fancy pen, although the probe was far too bulky and long and a pen would have no application in her current situation. As she inspected the odd tool, the caretaker reach over did...something, and the tip of the probe lit up, a magnificent white with a slight blue tint. "It's a torch?!" she smiled, something about the design made her happy for a moment. Then she returned to business, "Thanks but I've got a torch of my own in the box." she attempted to pass it back whilst pointing with her other hand to where her box should be, where it was not now nor earlier when she needed it.

"But this is a caretaker's torch. Which means it's monumentally superior to anything else company issued. Use it. Go on." he persistent, his moping duties all but abandoned. He peered over her as she worked.

"You're new here aren't you. Replacing Terry." she said to him, manoeuvring the torch to the lower parts of the drone, oil had pooled their.

"Terry?" he questioned before adding, "Yeah Terry, what happened to him?"

"He got promoted." she told him looking back for a moment. She was approaching the drum. "Well, he got put on deliveries. Drives one of the vans now. Bit of an odd switch but at least he gets to keep his job. How long do you reckon you'll work here for then...?" she paused, waiting for a name, he seemed to catch on.

"Doctor. No Smith! John Smith. Forget Doctor, I had a thing." he weirded her out but she obliged without questioning, she had work to do after all. "And not long, I'm just passing through."

"I think I know the feeling." she confessed.  
"Why where are you going?" he inquired.

"What? Oh nowhere." she assured him, "No one stays here for long though. People always come and go. Terry took the job of a lad called Toby; no idea where he's gone. Finley's a new face and I still haven't said hi to the lady at reception. Who knows, perhaps if you stay long enough you'll snatch up my job. You seemed to know a thing or two about machines."

"More than two." he murmured to himself.

"I'm Brianna, by the way." she said with a smile, once she decided that she was fond of John. He sighed indignantly, and that fondness quickly slipped away.

"You're also the 30th name I've been asked to memorise since this morning. I'm going to call you Mopey. Have you reached the drum yet?"

"Mopey!" she almost shrieked, her voice hitting higher than she intended. She had however reached the drum and continued with only a disapproving shake of her head. "Yeah I've got it. Still can't see any...Oh."

"Oh?"

She shone the light across the drum, the light revealing a deep crack in the metal work; the blue tint reflecting off the oil within.

"I'm going to need a new drum." she concluded though she was not pleased with this outcome. Parts are costly so she had been told. It would be an inconvenience. Then she would be an inconvenience. Her job could well be on the line. She was still focused on the drone, so she did not see John's pleased expression. Very hastily, he asked of her,

"Just out of interest, what hard drive does that run on."

"Err... I don't know. It's a foreign make, I can't read the language."

"Move the torch around a bit inside, give it a good look."

"Give it a what?!" she exclaimed, emerging completely from the works. John cast his eyes downwards, observing the probe.

"Never mind" he brushed his suggestion aside with a wave of his hand, "Complete nonsense. Forget I said anything. But I see you're done now. I'll be taking my torch and toddling off. You should too, you're missing your lunch. Or perhaps you want to find that spare part. Have you check back there. Behind the big 'Keep Out' sign, that's usually where businesses keep their expensive things."

"That's just processing," she told him with a step back into the comforting shadows. "No one's allowed back there, they must have told you that in your introduction."

"If it's just processing then why is nobody allowed in there?" he asked her, his voice taking on a sudden deep and serious tone.

"It's just processing," she parroted, though her words were shaky as she thought further on the matter, "Not my area, I haven't asked,"

"And the top floor, I take it that's just processing as well?" Unexpectedly, this question made her laugh.

"The top floor! That's Ms Maple's office. If you're curious about the dragon's den go knock her up, but don't expect anyone to follow."

"I'm might do that."

"You're funeral."

"But of course I've got all this moping to do." Brianna noted he was backing away, slowly dragging the wheel mop bucket by the mop.

"Of course you do."

"And then there's the dusting, and hoovering," he continued.

"Goodbye John Smith." she said to him and he seemed relieved, as if she had just given him permission to leave, as only then did he turn away and walk with increased speed.

"Goodbye Mopey." he called back to once he was some distance away. She shook her head once more but found herself smiling for a long time. The earlier embarrassment caused by Mr Cropper had faded away, replaced by something strange and alien to her. She thought it was called:happiness. Once this was realised she prayed, silently, that it did not prove itself to be fleeting.

* * *

The afternoon shift continued like any other. At no point did she see John Smith again, despite seeing several incidents which required a caretaker's hand. Her shift finished at five, and as BW incorporated was one of the odd companies to not have staff in overnight, everybody else's shift was also coming to a close. And so, with a red tint to the sky, she made the 30 minute walk to her home. Home, for her, cost £12 per week, so long as she could keep up the facade that she was unemployed and looking for work. If she failed in this, she would be expected to pay the £300 a week which she could not afford, nor would her working hours allow for her to rent her own place and still feed herself. It was the hostel or the streets for her. For this to work she ditched her overalls at work each evening, washed her skin, face and hair of the dirt and oil in the bathroom sink and sat under the hand dryer until her hair was only damp. It had worked for a month, but it was beginning to get exhausting.

She took a route through the park, preparing the story of her day. It was seldom asked for but a touch of anxiety in her bones compelled her to make up something passable should the hostel manager feel particularly prickly one day. She passed one man who had already made his bed under a park bench. Approaching him, she dropped a £2 coin through the bars and it landed on his coat. He didn't wake, but it would be there when he woke up. She enjoyed the noise of the duck pond and the crows cawing overhead. These quickly faded as she neared Ash house, her hostel. The red sky was now purples and navy blue, the faintest glimmer of stars beginning to shine. On the steps that proceeded the multi story brick city structure, she saw two figures in discussion. She saw one of them was her dear friend, Nathan, and she smiled pleasantly. At least until she discerned the nature of their discussion. Nathan was particularly downcast, the manager chastising him from a higher step. They seemed to part, the manager inside, Nathan to the streets, before she brought them back together with a question.

"What's going on?"

"Hello Briann, Nathan's not paid again." the manager told her. She knew this meant he was being kicked out.

"Well you can't send him out now. It's getting dark and...and you need to give him some notice." she protested uselessly.

"He's had a whole two weeks to get his affairs in order, we can't rent space for nothing."

"I'll pay," she insisted, Nathan quickly protested the suggestion, the manager ignored his contribution to the conversation. As far as he was concerned he was as good as gone.

"And where would you be getting this money from? Hmm? You're gone all day for days. New clothes, meals out. You can't afford that on hand out." he glared at her and her nerves shook.

"I went to the job centre. Then the park, I fed ducks." the lie spilled out, in a less coordinated manner than she practised.

"I didn't ask." he growled and she felt her time was up. He shooed Nathan away once more, he was intent to comply after saying goodbye to Brianna.

"I'll be fine Bria. I'll bunk down at the bus station, and tomorrow I'll head back to my parent's house, there no work here anyway." he seemed content with this outcome, but Brianna still saw a window for him to stay.  
"Well if it's just a night you can stay we me." Now she turned to the manager, "We'll share a bed, it'll be fine."

"Tell that to the other women. Lydia's been complaining about some of the bloke groping her. It just won't do. Now hurry up out here. Brianna, we'll talk more about your money issues tomorrow understood." She nodded, and he left them.

Once alone, she took note of his short hair, reddened ears and nose, and the way he shuddered when a sudden gust of wind assaulted them. She gave him something from her head, a hat, 80% fluff, 20% something else. He looked ridiculous but it was appreciated.

"Keep warm you daft sod," was her parting messaged and she lingered by the door until he was well around the corner.

She went to her room on the fifth floor which she shared with three other women in bunk beds. Thinking that she was soon receive her notice by the manager she was hasty to make the most of their showers. It was a shared cubicle at the end of the hallway, more of a cupboard really with just a shower and some walking space behind the lockable door. After bathing properly and relishing the orangey scent of her skin, she ate half a fridge (an indulgence she blamed on missing lunch), watched a sports in the communal room and knocked back a few beers with other residents before turning in for the night.

Sleep came quickly, the beer fending of her anxieties, the good times downstairs numbing the dismal prospects of tomorrow or next week and any ills of her past. Her bed was warm and comforting, and her room-mates didn't suffer from snoring. Brianna was a light sleeper, which was something of a fault when you live in a city. Whilst the banging on the door downstairs didn't wake the others it was like an alarm in her ears. It woke her with a start and she was soon after rendered completely awake when her head made impact with the top bunk. Rubbing the soreness, she walked to the single window in the room, sliding it upwards with her right hand and poking her head outside. She would not have known it was Nathan if not for the halo of fuzz her hat seemed to give him. She was confused and sleep dazed when she called his name.

"Bria! Bria, let me in! Let me in please!" he shouted to her window, looking from her to the door in front of him but lingering most on whatever was behind him. She questioned further,

"Nathan? It's the middle of the night. What's going on?"

"They're coming for me Brianna. They just keep coming. Let me in please." after his second plea Brianna saw the black van wheel round the corner, sudden fear striking a chord within in her. It wasn't police vehicle, and that to her was permission to act.  
"I coming down!" she said with no regard for her volume. Her room-mates were beginning to stir.

In her night wear she threw herself down the steps as fast as she could, her heart was racing as Nathan's door punching was like a timer ticking down in the background. On the forth floor she halted at an access panel, showing it her hand and instructing it to open the front door. She heard it open, relief was instant. Still she ran, down to the third floor and the second. On the first floor she came to a stop. Their front door was left ajar but there was no sigh of Nathan. She checked the side rooms, the reception, the communal lounge. She called for him at the top of her lungs but there was no response. The manager soon awoke, and other residents joined her on the lower staircase.

"What the bloody hell's going on!"

"Nathan was being chased. There was a van." Each breath was frantic, she willed herself to calm when she heard the tires screeching nearby. "Call the police!" she ordered the manager, "Get them here now!"

"Don't get the Police round! Denise has a grand of crack under her bunk!" protested one of the residents but Brianna was already out the door.  
"Hey!" she screamed to the vehicle as she chased it. It wheeled round a corner. She followed it. When it re-entered her field of vision it turned again. She could not keep up but she knew the alleyways around the hostel. The next corner it took, she took an alley that led out just in front of it. It sped past her and once again she did the same. Twice more she did this before exhaustion was catching up with her. But then, like a wish come true, it pulled into a multi storey parking lot and she found the strength to follow.

She kept quiet and to the shadows when she entered, there was no sigh of the van on the ground floor, though she could not see far in the dim orange lighting overhead. On the ramp that led to the second floor were black skid marks. She followed them up cautiously and found more emptiness. On the forth floor she stopped, feeling the futility of her efforts sink in. What could she door against a mystery van anyway? Except yell at it. They could run her over or take her away too. That was beginning to feel like a more likely outcome. She was alone, it was midnight and she was in her nightie. When this settled in her mind adrenaline could not comfort her and she inched her way closer to the descending ramp. Fear for her own well being guiltily overshadowing that of her friend's. She reasoned with her self. _The police had been called. They'll handle this. They'll bring him back._

The sudden slam of a car door confirmed her fears. It had came from above but there was also hushed chatter from below. The voices were getting closer. She surveyed her options and hid herself behind one of the pillars that would keep her obscured from both people going up or down. There she spent some time, lost in her breathing, striving to keep herself together when in truth she was scared beyond her wits. She risked a glance backwards and saw that there were two watchers by the descending ramp, her only exit besides jumping(and with that, certain death). And as much as she could see them, they could see her. Three concealed figures, two were wearing hoods the points of which were in line with her, the third, the central figure, was draped more in a tattered rags and she could see no hands, no face, no skin. Once sure she had acknowledged them, both of the hooded men lifted a pointed finger first to her then to the ascending ramp, silently instructing her to go. She did not, at first, from fear more than anything else, though she could not see an outcome to this night which didn't end with her dead on the pavement. The two stomped their feet and eventually shouted the commands before she heeded them. She ascended the ramp and walked into the open air. Like her wish, the van was there, waiting, all doors closed, for her arrival. The hat she had gave to Nathan, stain with a splattering of warm blood. She crouched down, unable to touch it, unable to give voice to her distress until she could, and that voice was a scream. A black sack had been pulled over her head, and someone had there arms around her. She was pulled back onto their body, the arm around her starving her of air. She sought to bat her way free with her arms but they too were being restrain by silent figures. Choking and coughing, she gave in to unconsciousness.


	3. An Industrial Mourning pt 2

**AN: Evening all. Bit of info for this chapter and the ones that follow. In Hell bent it was established that the Doctor can remember his time with Clara just nothing about her, well in this I've made it so any time new pieces of Clara are learnt another piece slips away. What I did not understand in Hell bent is What the F happened to the Time Lords and Galifrey so in later chapters (mostly Clara's atm) expect them to be back like it's no surprise. I believe there will be only one more part to this story, I felt I had to split it up because of how big the word count was getting.**

* * *

As it approached noon, the Doctor concluded he had scrounged up as much information as he could hope to from the humans congregating on the hostel steps. His TARDIS had provided more in the way of aid. The two officers, who believed him to be their superior, courtesy of the psychic paper, had turned out little from the residents all who claimed to be sleeping. At best, they redirected them to another resident who had not yet returned. The officers were closing their inquiry to the young woman they had been consulting, they insisted to her that the delayed resident contact them when she returned, else another missing persons report would have to be filed. Then the Doctor bounced forwards, pinching a pen from the officers and claiming the woman's hand with his own. He drew up her sleeve.

"Have her call this number too. She'll find it might be more suitable for her needs then the conventional helpline."

"What sort of number has 100 numbers in it?!" said the resident, her eyes wide as the phone number passed her inner elbow and went back to her wrist to form a second line.

"I'm a doctor," he conceded, releasing her wrist and returning the pen. The woman sleeved herself. He didn't doubt that she didn't take him seriously. "If this is in anyway worth my time, she's going to need one." And with that said he left, abandoning the three humans at the door and before long the officers too acting on their intent to depart.

It was a short walk to his ship, having parked it besides a railroad underpass, in the shadow of a great full leaved pear tree.

"Do you think their related then?" the question was asked to him when he was deep in thought.

"Of course they are. Why are you even asking that?" he responded, his voice unwantingly brittle, a consequence of the frustration these talks inevitably stirred in him. "Hundreds of teleportation signatures across the city, as many people missing. People don't just up a go on holiday without telling their loved ones every time a few aliens show up."

He had reached his TARDIS, his foot met with a fallen pear that squished beneath his feet. _Typical,_ he thought aloud, as he did most his thoughts. With one hand he held the door and waited for her to pass underneath his arm. Once he believed she had he followed. Marching straight for the console and the above monitor, he brought to screen a map displaying the signatures across town. He pondered it thoughtfully feeling her doing likewise right besides him.

"Well I did that. More than once." she told him but their was no colour to her voice, no accent. Heck! He was only certain it sounded female because the shiloutte that plagued him was shaped with a skirt!

"Yes." he agreed to her declaration and for the briefest of moments his mind took him to where he took her, a foreign world; one of her firsts. And when he looked at her he saw her in complete clarity. There was a colour to her skin, a roundness to her face, a style to her hair and a piercing brightness to her eyes. For the briefest of moments he knew her again with a cutting sharpness. So certain he was that now he knew her she could never slip his mind again. But then that moment passed. He looked besides him, where he'd deceived himself for her to be, and saw the short pink figure his mind constructed. Her face was hazy getting hazier, her features blending away like the consequence of paint effect. He was the artist here. He knew he shouldn't be, that he could never get her right, the neural block forbade him that perfection, that clarity of mind. When the frustration creeped in he felt a twist of anger. Anger at himself for allowing her to become the object of his frustration, anger at himself for not being able to swipe her away from his thoughts as he did now. One sweep of his hand and the likeness he crafted besides himself caved in, collapsed into nothing.

"I don't even know who you are any more." he lamented, dispassionately setting his TARDIS to fly, intent on returning to work.

* * *

 _Just one more step,_ she told her self for the hundredth time, _Just one more step. I can't keep falling in the street!_ Pressing onwards, it felt like an hour had passed but in truth it could not have been more than half that time. She had woken alone in the parking space where her conciousness had been stolen from her in the night. It was not pain that burdened each step, though her body was stinging all over it was more of a flaring irritation that made her want to itch or roll in something rough like sandpaper. Annoying but tolerable, which could not be said for her bodies other failings. Like the ground raising up to smack her every time her legs gave out after a few steps. She had learnt to predict her falls. First her vision would blacken, then the chill that plagued her since waking would assault her with abandon and then finally her legs would give way beneath her. She would wait where she fell inside darkness, riding the finale waves of cold until it seemed to vanish entirely. She could then stand, as if nothing had caused her to fall and for a few steps she walked with ease, then the chill returned and with it the certainty of imminent collapse.

Her last fall landed her closer to home than she believed she'd reached. Having lowered herself by the industrial sized waste bins on the road's edge the moment she felt her sight leaving her, she heard a door slam shut. It seemed so much louder that it ought to have been. A woman was leaving, it did not matter that she did not recognise who. It was the first face she had seen this morning that had not simply driven passed her. She prayed she would be ignored again.

"hmbppghhaa!" she called to the women, though when she lost her voice she couldn't recall. It had captured her attention though, and if the words failed her her outstretched hand would serve as her plea for help.

A spell of weakness overthrew her and her hand fell limp by her side, her head lolling towards the ground. Rendered sightless but not senseless, she felt strong hand grab her by the wrists and soon after her ankles and she was off the ground. They were speaking to each other, the voices overlapping one another until it was nothing but noise in her ears. Her stomach rolled when they starting carrying her. Their hurried strides leading her inside where the indoor warmth proved a welcome relief from her sickness. She could almost breath easily. Then she felt the cold assault her from behind, circling her waist and sloshing against her thighs then her knees. When she had sunk down fully into the bath the cold water was level with her shoulders. Before the water settled the odd wave splashed against her chin feeling as a knife against her skin. She was shivering violently but despite this the voices droned on feeling relieved though completely ignorant on how she felt herself slipping away.

"Have you made that call yet?" one voice said to another.

"He's on his way now," came the reply.

* * *

The smell of tea had woke her from her sleep. It was a deliberate attempt to wake her, she determined from the familiar face holding the cup mere inch's from her nose. She threw a sleepy smile in her direction. The face of Mercia Woodnorth was a welcome sight to wake to, and she was smiling back at her.

"Finally you're awake," Brianna's raven haired friend said.

"And you have tea," Brianna observed with sleepy glee. Rolling onto her side, she sought to free one hand from beneath her covers. _Where did they all come from?_ She wondered in the moment she struggled. Whipping one hand into the comparably cool bedroom air she snatched the tea and drank in eagerly. Humming her approval as the first sip was inevitably superior to the ones that followed it. Mercy sat back against the opposing bunk beds with a cup of her own. With a ceramic tea pot off to one side she gave them both a second serving.

"How are you feeling this morning?" asked Mercia with lingering concern.

"Pretty good," Brianna responded easily, only after saying it did she remember how ill she had felt the night before. In truth she couldn't feel a trace of sickness left in her body, a bit of an itch, and she rolled her shoulders at that, but otherwise she had found it had to believe she had been ill at all. "Very good. These's sheets are too heavy though," she counted four thick duvets weighing her down.  
"That was the doctor's idea. Your room-mates weren't happy about but they can have them back now I suppose." she rose and went about removing the weight from Brianna's bunk. When only two duvet's remained Brianna went about rising. Mercia noticed, "Good to see you well Bria," she placed two fingers on Brianna's forehead, playing swatting her back so she fell into the pillow with a bounce. Laughter followed, "But you're staying in bed and I'm going to make sure of it." Brianna protested, preaching her good health but Mercia was having none of it. For the remaining day Brianna was bed bound. Mercia played maid and she played along, not disliking the stream of tea and biscuits brought to her room whenever she asked. Other residents popped their head through the door wishing her well and speaking their concerns. For hours they watched programs shown of the holoscreen on a far way. One bad program followed another but it was a preferred pastime to the game of chess that had been set aside underneath her bunk. The whole day passed and she was sure to remember it as one of the most easy going days of her year so far, but as the hour turned six and another program came to a close, she rolled her toes under the duvet, appreciating the warmth and the softness of the fabric, it was this which made her thoughts turn sour. She was thinking of Nathan huddled down at the bus station, his hands stuffed into her coat pockets for a shrapnel of the warmth she was enjoying. Then she remembered Nathan wasn't at the bus station. Nor was he travelling home to his parent's. _They'll be wondering where he is by now._ He was where ever that van had taken him. Where ever she had been.

The whole day she had enjoyed herself, her illness having overshadowed the events that caused it but know she could think of nothing else. She flexed under the covers, the fabric trapping her irritatingly.

"Where's my hat?" Brianna asked.

"Your what?" Mercia inquired, the question having fallen on her at the tail end of a yawn. She would soon have to go home.

"My hat, the fluff one. I though I had it with me."

"Y-you didn't have one when I came in this morning. Perhaps one of the other..."

"I should find it." Brianna announced and left the bed and her room before Mercia had risen.

Mercia was tailing after her through the hallway, her sudden hand blocking a door frame brought Brianna to a stop.

"Bria you can't go anywhere you're still sick!" she insisted, her eyes wide with alarm.  
"You've spent the whole day with me. I'm not sick, I need to find that hat. I need to." The hat was only part of what she needed right then but it was the first thing. _First the hat. Then Nathan,the van and the hooded men._ Mercia knew her to get upset over many small things, she trusted her to take her seriously.

"Okay, okay. We can find your hat." despite that trust Mercia still spoke as though she were talking to a babbling loon, "Tomorrow. After the police have come by. You're still ill Bria and look outside it's nearly night."

She couldn't fault that observation. One look out the window showed a sky that was orange turning purple. By the end of the hour it would be a deep blue with only street lights and stars to light her way. _It is nearly dark_ , Brianna conceded, _and the streets are full of hooded kidnappers._ She watched her friend with no small amount of concern. But she also saw a glimmer of opportunity and it must have shown, Mercia was taken aback, her brows flexed suspiciously towards Bria.

"I guess you'll be needing an escort then."

* * *

Her argument against Brianna's proposal of escort was largely one sided, with Brianna coming out on top. She allowed her to walk her home and check out the area her hat had disappeared on the condition she order a taxi back to the hostel and call her before the night was over. On their stroll Mercy checked every nook and cranny where one might find a misplaced hat, behind bins, in bins, on street lamps or the odd statue. Brianna was watching the building tops, waiting for that one building to appear when they walk a corner.

"They'll be a lot of stars out tonight." Mercia chimed in, pulling Brianna from her daze. She must have thought she'd been staring at the sky, not the top floor of the high rise car park they were approaching.

"Stars?" she turned to Mercy, then to the sky. Above them the cloudless purple was spotted with bright specks. _There's so many of them this evening._ More than any city had right to see, stars in this quantity were usually seen in the countryside where there was less light pollution. "Oh yeah, there are quite a few." They were walking slower now.  
"What do you think of when you look up at them Bria?"

"What do I think?!" she responded through chuckles, Mercia had taken their conversations to an odd place. Brianna composed herself, "I don't know, I've never really thought about it."

"No?" Mercia added a hum, having expected more to her answers given how deeply she had stared upwards. She found herself smiling stupidly up to the multitude of lights, recalling a time when she use to seek them out in a borrowed telescope. To her friend she confided, "Sometimes I like to look up there to make me feel small; unimportant." Brianna rushed to combat her declaration.

"You're not unimportant. There's nothing good about feeling that."

"No Bria, I don't mean in this self loathing way. Just look up there now an then. I become so small, but so does everything else, all my problems, all my worries. There only there because I choose them to be. The world become so much bigger and better and beautiful and I'm going to live my entire life not laying a single bad finger on it because I don't matter. I'm small. I'm happy." She trailed off, noticing how she had rambled on, noticing Brianna staring at her with a raised eyebrow. She blushed, "...And that's what I think off when I see stars." They laughed a while, Mercia's ridiculousness rubbing them both the right way.

"If you want to build a happy place in space I'm not judging."

"You are absolutely judging me."

"Are you feeling well?" she joked, placing her palm on Mercia's forehead as she had done to her several times in the morning. It was swatted away playfully and they continued into the carpark. The concrete pillars on the ground floor were wrapped in police tape like ribbons on maypole. The barrier they had form now snapped and the tape fluttered around the base of there pillars like the tail of a disappointing kite. Mercia took note of the black marks the vehicle had left and again gently pressed her for the night's details. As pressing as matters seemed, she could only think about the stars now that they were no longer in her view. _They are pretty. And there are a lot of them..._ But she felt nothing grand when she looked at them.

"Which floor was it? Where will we find...your hat?" Mercia asked as they reached the third floor. 'Hat' was code, it was understood between them that finding clothing was secondary to finding Nathan. But she had held the hat in her hands before she passed out, spotted with blood, _his_ blood. She worried what she might find. _Nothing,_ she assured herself. _The police would've said if they had._

"On the very top floor." she answered, soon she been seeing the stars again. _And the forth floor,_ she added in thought, _That's where the hooded men had been. From above and from below._

The climbed to the forth floor. Like before it was vacant of vehicles, unlike before it was also vacant for people. Mercia marched on to the fifth floor. She followed and on the fifth floor the pair were immediately buffeted by a strong breeze. They faced the north and a half moon was rising over the urban skyline, the two basked in a twinkle of lights both from both above and below. From where they stood there was still many metres of car park behind them. Litter was being uplifted in what felt like a weak and dying cyclone. By the time it passed Brianna and Mercia had found the darker splotch on the concrete floor. Approaching it, the patch was now brown instead of the rich red it had been the night before, having dried onto the concrete. Brianna crouched down, Mercia stood over her but alas their was no hat to be found. No black van or hooded men. No Nathan. Fury spurred within her. A hot fury that ached her jaw and made her eyes leak. _Why didn't I act faster?! But I had opened the door. I should have ran faster._

"Bria..?" Mercia broached cautiously. _How long have I been quiet?_

"Did the police say anything? Whilst I was ill?" she inquired with a turn of her head. She spotted something far behind Mercia's shoulder.

"They asked questions. Didn't answer many." she replied then looked oddly at Bria. She followed her line of sight to a tall wooden box oddly placed at the carparks south end. It was deep blue in colour, almost black in the night darkness but the lights from within shone through two windows on either side, and the bulb on top gave hints as to it's day time appearance. "What is that?"

"A ...police box." Brianna discerned, squinting at the words printed above the windows. "They Have been investigating then." That almost made her chipper. She walked towards it, her heart pounding in anticipation of answers.

"Bria! Don't get too close!" Mercia called her back. "That could be a forensic tent, we'll get in trouble!"

"What tent is made of wood?" Brianna retorted, sauntering closer to the box. She had her hand so close to the handle when she quickly snapped it back with sudden wariness. There were lights on inside, she looked either side but could see no cable powering it. _I suppose the windows could be solar panels. Or luna ones._

"Sturdy ones." replied Mercy. She was by her side now.

"But the police left ages ago why would they leave just this at a crime scene?" Brianna pondered this, after recalling the torn yellow tape on the ground floor.

"Well there clearly not done. All the more reason for us to more along. Come on Bria, a man was murdered here. " _He's not dead,_ Brianna wanted to interject but said nothing. " You were almost gone too. Wait until tomorrow, the police will come. We'll ask, and we'll get answers. Until then, I don't feel safe out here. Not for me, not for you." Mercia's hand slipped into her own. "Take me home," she pleaded in the box's cold light. Mercy's hand in hers made all her arm muscles tense. For most, this was a gesture of friendship, simple supporting friendship. In Mercia's hand she held this and much more, she was not a friend so casually physical, they seldom hugged despite their closeness. But Brianna loved her like a sister, if she could begin to grasp what a sisterly relationship might be like, she assumed it was this. For some years she had watched over her when they shared the same care home. There were years between, but few enough so that went to the same schools. And what was said amongst the homeless, the jobless, the gangs and the grieving law enforcement was true enough. _"Blackwood children tend to stick together. Even those who'd been adopted."_ She had first heard that from a copper when she was sixteen. She and her boyfriend of the time had been caught nicking sweets and alcohol from a corner shop. Mercia was to scared to be in on it. _Too easily scared. Too needing of protection._

They were putting the blood and the blue box behind them. The police would come in the morning. Until then she would let Mercia feel happy and safe, and walked her to her parent's bungalow in the suburbs. They hugged at the door, having stayed for a cuppa and for the taxi to arrive. Mercia squeezed a little too tightly, always did when she took a chance and broke her habit.

"You'll call right?" she asked as they parted.

"As soon as I'm in my Pjs" Brianna assured her when she swung open the taxi door.

"Where to love?" the driver was in his 30s. Black hair, round face, round everything. She told him home, and for five minutes she watched the little arrow on the screen as it wove through the map. Mercia was far behind her now, and that realisation was as gratifying as payday. She slapped the drivers shoulder with a suddenness that startled him. After apologising, she insisted they change their course.

It was pitch dark when she made the second ascent of the night. She reached the fifth floor without fear. She was fearless for the most part the other day when she let adrenaline and anger drive away her good senses. The police box was still there, it seemed bluer now the moon was higher. She rapped against the front door, four times just below the window each in quick succession to the one before it. She waited a moment, after no answer she knocked again, louder this time. _There's got to be someone in here. Where's the power coming from?_ She didn't knock again. Determination left her quickly after that. Having paced the top floor for a few minutes she threw her legs over one of the carparks low walls, sitting on the edge and kicking her feet two and fro. From here she watched the stars. There were lots of them tonight and the sky was clear. Some were distant dots on the black, others seemed closer and their brightness was pulsating. In her eyes, some seemed to be moving. Brianna tried to recall hearing about a meteor shower over the passed week, but she didn't trouble herself with news and therefore had nothing to recall. She was not interesting in returning to her bed this evening. Brianna knew she would be thinking about how soft it is, how warm it was under the covers, how she would wake to tea and hot food in the morning and how she couldn't enjoy any of this whilst Nathan wasn't. A shot of guilt struck her, _Why just Nathan?_ She remember the block sleeping under a bench the other evening. _Why do I only feel bad for him?_ Curious, she shed her coat, baring her arms to the wind. It seemed to understand her request. Once her coat touched the ground the wind whipped at the flesh of her arms. It snaked under her shirt, not leaving a single nerve untouched by the cold. Her teeth were chattering. _I wouldn't want to be out in this._ She discerned, sparing a thought to those who didn't have a bed tonight like she did. Having resolved to move and return home, she was leaning backwards to pick up her coat when a sheet of paper, only litter picked up in the earlier breeze, slapped her around the face with alarming strength. She shrieked, grabbing it from where it blanketed her nose. There was a wetness on her jaw, and she found the paper had cut and a small trickle of blood was dripping onto her collar bone. She pressed her palm against the injuring willing it to stop, withdrawing only to weave that arm through the sleeve of her coat. On the turn, she noticed the space seemed a smidgen darker that it had when she first arrived. There was a light missing from the far end. There was a whole box missing from the far end. Brianna leaped towards the absent space. _The box has gone! The whole Bloody box has gone!_ Her eyes were wide with astonishment and she was circling where it had been. Both hands went to the sides of her skull.

"Oh no. No No No No No." she murmured to herself. Freaked out, she fled for home. She knew now she would not sleep with guilt over warm blankets and tea. If she slept at all, she would dream of disappearing boxes and wake pondering the state of her mental health.

* * *

It was 8 am when she woke. 9 when the police arrived, and her shift at work started at 11. At 9: 15 the interrogation was well under way. She submitted herself to there question. They both spoke in such a clinical over the desk manner, it angered her. She asked questions of her own but was only answered with, 'we're looking into it.' 'not quite sure yet,' 'our best people...' _Lies, lie. It's all lies._ Brianna thought through clenched teeth. As they drone on she began thinking of last night, _Stars pfft. Don't need stars to tell me how small we are. Just an incompetent police force._

The meeting wrapped up. When they left she collected their cups and washed them. She was drying her hands when her room mate approached. On her inner arm was a mess of ink not fully washed off but in her hands was a letter. Brianna knew what it was before opening it, she had guessed by the uneasy look on her room-mates face. She opened it nonetheless. _huh for you eeeerrrrr termination. Blah blah blah. Two weeks notice._ She read mentally, "Fuck!" she said audiably.

She was thinking on her eviction on her walk to work. Contrary to what she initially believed, she wasn't in that bad of a place. She had a job, she had friends. She had no doubt Mercia and her family would let her bunk down on the sofa for a while. Once that while had passed...Brianna began to day dream as she crossed the park. Mercia had a job too; a small part time job at a cafe. Separately they don't earn much but perhaps if they pooled their income they could afford a small flat. Brianna was smiling happily. _Worse case scenario we only afford a bedsit. Then we'll get bunk beds. In a few months we'll have saved up enough for a holoscreen. We'll watch crap holo for hours and eat awful food._

She had left the hostel bitter and depressed, now she walked through the employees entrances with a smile on her face. It proved contagious. She passed the new receptionist in the hallway, the one she hadn't spoken too yet and she had approached her as if they were good friends. Word of her illness had gotten around, everyone seemed to be asking how she was. For the most part, embarrassed was the answer but she was grateful for their concern. She slipped on her overalls, tied her hair up and walked into the warehouse to her little corner where a drone would be waiting for her.

And somebody else...

"... Who are you?" she asked the youth huddled over her drone. He had rearranged her tools and workspace. A sudden slap of her shoulder caused her to jump.

"Mopey! I see you've met Bootstap." The wiry hand belonged to John Smith. The grey old caretaker was smiling madly between the two of them. Bootstrap approached her, cleaning his hands of oil on an rag. He was very clean cut, he must have been working for hours now but it could be assumed he'd only just started.

"Sorry about him. He nicknames everyone. Though I guess you already know that...Mopey." He had given her a hand to shake. It took her a moment to realise that.

"I'm Brianna,"

"And I'm Michael"

"Michael here's a engineer. He started whilst you were off sick. How are you feeling Mopey?" One of his hand went to her forehead and she avoided it with a step back.

"Err, fine thanks," she answered him dismissively before turning towards Bootstrap, "I wasn't told I'd a work partner."

"No...Nor was I." he said slowly, "Perhaps we should check with-"

Whatever he was about to say was cut off when Edward Finley joined their little corner group.

"Brianna, Sorry to interrupt. But I need a word." he began. _I've lost my job haven't I._ Brianna could sense the words before they were said. He continued, "You've met Michael. I'm afraid decisions were made up high and we can no longer afford to keep you in the position you were contracted for."

"So I'm-"

"Being relocated." he answered, surprising her. Michael had returned to his work, John seemed to be lingering by busying himself with a duster. "A vacancy arose In processing. We all thought it was better suited for your skills."

"Processing," she breathed the word. He eyes instinctively fluttered over to the door at the back of the room. Even the glance felt forbidden and wrong. Finley was rambling on about pay cuts or something. She caught the tail end of his words.

"We've arranged for you to shadow some colleagues for the remainder of your shift. Follow me." She was doing just that. Leaving behind her corner of comfort and inching closer to the unknown. They took a detour however, to a wall of locker on the side wall.

"They asked that you put this on." he handed her some black fabric. She whipped it loose from it's neat folding and saw that it was another set of overalls. Similar to the beige one she wore as an engineer. Similar except for... _the hood. Similar to there's._

"Why does it have a hood?" she asked Finley.

"You know, I haven't thought to ask." he replied.

She carried it with her, intent on dressing afterwards. Her heart was racing, her mind was lost somewhere outside herself as they approached the door.

The door was closed quickly once she was inside, Finley had left her at the mercy of the other workers. There were less than a dozen of them in this large dimly lit space. They were all dressed alike with their hoods up. A woman approached her equally covered but she could see a flash of a pale face beneath the fabric and she spoke with a young lilting voice.

"I wasn't told we were expecting anyone knew." she declared with a head-turn to her other colleagues. They were all moving about the room with either a clipboard or a strange mechanical piece in hand. The pieces were bubble wrapped and boxed, then sent along the conveyor belt.

"They don't tell us anything anymore," another colleagues, male, chimed in before disappearing behind some shelves of stock. "We haven't prepared any initiation." another hooded one added, her voice hoarse and cracked.

"Initiation?" brianna questioned as her heart paused.

"Don't worry about it dear." she assured her, placing a hand on her shoulder, taking the black grabs from her hands she placed them on a side table. "Some react badly to the substance. We're brought here. And here we'll be safe. Here we are grateful."

"I'm Brianna,"

"Very soon that won't matter."

Her hand left her shoulder. For the next hour Brianna moved without thinking. Unease took over her every step, she could shake the feeling the others were watching her through their hoods. She felt trapped, but like a caged bird she still sang. Her work was simple enough. She had been given a pick sheet with lists of item ids. Random numbers and letters is what they were, and thought the ids matched with an item on the shelves it she still felt inclined to double, then triple check. She regularly looked at the door, the only exit in the room, and thought to make a run for it. But every time those thoughts occurred one of the hooded had silently decided their work required them to stand patiently by that door, and so she returned to work

The room had a strange, stuffy air too it. Covering all the walls were strange black curtains. Thick and heavy. In the beams of dim orange lights from above she saw thick clumps of dust floating leisurely and breathing them in made her cough violently. It only seemed to bother her. The rest moved like a well oiled machine.

She had barely finished assembling her forth order when the bell for lunch called and she turned to the door with glee.

"Where are you going Brianna?" asked the croaky voiced woman from beneath her hood. She had her hand on the door handle and all the workers were watching her with a sideways tilt to their hoods.

"Grabbing a bite to eat," they acted as if it were the strangest thing she could ever suggest. The kind woman moved closer, snaking an arm around her waist so's to move her away from the door.

"We were about to do the same. Oh poor Brianna, these past few days must have been so startling for you."

"Something like that. Can you let me go." she insisted and the women withdrew her hand. Free, but now they were surrounding her, a hooded one facing her on every turn. Wood was scraping along the floor and she turn to see a large long box being brought towards them.

"Why are you acting like this? You must have felt it by now. The Itch, the cold, the pull,the cravings?"

"I've been cold." she recalled vocally. _And an itch._ She added, and scratched the irritating patch on her neck.  
"This is what it's been leading to. You're one of us now. You breve us in every breath. Forget humanity, anything human in you will be dead when were finished. Only we remain. We always remain." This she told her, and they all moved closer, closing this circle. She was rendered speechless, panic sank her heart down to her stomach. Speechless, but she could still scream.

"HHHEEEELLppphmph!" A hand clasped over her mouth reducing her cries to weak muffling. A stench assaulted her nose. His body smelt of bogs and marshlands, or a trashbin after heavy rain was perhaps more accurate as she knew little of nature. His skin was cracked and grey and hoarse. Within seconds of struggle, he broke the skin of her lips and she was bleeding. His spare hand went to circle her flailing arms in an attempt to control her. Held close to his body like this, there was little she could do.

"She's too stubborn this one. We need to speed the process." the one who held her spoke.

The others agreed, and dispersed into the rooms shadows. They ducked into the hidden corners, behind the high curtains and in many of the long boxes she had not examined. The woman with the soft voice stayed near her, her only contribution to the groups engagements had been to pull up a chair and work her into it with restraints. The others began to return, ferrying gas cannisters and attaching a transparent mask to it. Another carried a tray of tools, knives, tongs a weird circular pointy thing. She was still screaming protests into her captors cupped hand, the rough surface scratching her like sandpaper.

"Look at me." she addressed Brianna, "Make her look at me," she addressed her captor when she did not listen. Her head was yanked up harshly. "See the face of things to come."

One after another they lifted their hoods. The hand behind release her, Brianna forgot to breathe at the sight of them, her brows furrowed her mouth made an 'o' shape. They looked the stuff of nightmares. The first woman, her chin was sweet and pink, on either side of her smile were dark red lochs tumbling down in curls to her black clad shoulders. But that was where the humanity ended. And she was the most human of them all. From her cheeks upwards her skin was black and cracked. Her eyes were gone, or so they seemed. There was a light in those oval slits but she looked lifeless. Where she thought they'd be a red mane was instead a wiry mess of thinning hair. Her nose was not a nose. Too wide and pointed and leathery looking. The tip of the nose looked like a tear drop pecking the flesh of her lower lip. _She's got half a beak!_ Brianna's mind screamed. The other's had a lower beak to match the upper. They were bald and leathery and staring down at her with a hungry clapping of their beaks.

The beaks snapped at one another, perhaps they were talking. One or two were shrieking. _Everyone's on their break. No one will hear me._ She gulped down her fear, which became a little harder when the woman reached over the the tray held by the last hooded man and retrieve a rusted knife. The edge was pressed against her face where the paper cut had since healed. She opened it with the blade till blood ran warm against her jaw line. She yelped at the sharpness and the blade was withdrawn.

"We break the skin to let the spores in." the woman said and in unison her beaky captors each ran a long finger along their favourite facial scar. Some were huge fissures in the face, others were small pricks in the skin, a series of dots. With shaking breath she looked over to the tray, to what awaited her. She was not the only one to do so.

"Are you going to kill me? Why are you doing this?" she pleaded with the woman. Her eyes were dead and uncaring.

"We are just speeding the inevitable. We gain nothing from your death, and much to gain from your life. You will be one of us."

"Well I kinda don't wanna be!" her voice was nothing more than gasps and grunts as she fought against her restraints. Another cut was made below her eye, the pressure made her scream through her teeth. The other creatures were shaking their wretched head and clucking disapprovingly.

"We are just speeding the inevitable." she told her once again.

Her cheek stinged. She looked around her for help but saw she had no friends in this room. She had worked here for a month and walking passed this room had only given her bad feels. _How many people have sat in this seat? How many people have I walked passed._ She looked at her captors and had her answer. _Eight. Eight people I have walked passed._ One on her right look shorter than the others, about his height. Perhaps it was her confusion talking but she had to asked,

"Nathan?" the creature tilted his head in confusion. _Not Nathan then,_ "Toby? Ranjit?" She didn't know their names. So many people left and she didn't know their names.

"Names lose all meaning when the spores become you.." the woman informed.  
"I had a friend. I lost him the first time I saw you guys. Is he one of you?!" the knife was close to her again. The blood on the edge glimmered in the orange light. "He would never do this to me."

"You will understand when you are one of us." A quick shallow slash passed her forehead.

"No! No you tell me now! If you're going to turn me into a sadistic cunt you tell me when I can still care!" she halted at this, long enough for her to blink away the blood that had dripped into her eyes.

"It is the business of the masters on high. You and your friend and many others before you were currency in a transaction. We, including you, are the consequence of that transaction gone wrong. It is not our business, but we are a part of it, a small part, a vital part. We have heard nothing of your friend. He is likely dead. Or wishing he was."

"He's not dead." said Brianna.  
"Toby?" her dead eyes seemed to be thinking, a difficult task, "or Ranjit? What was the name?"

"Nathan." she replied after a breath. She did not answer but her glowing eyes passed behind Brianna, to the box that lay long, still and unopened on the floor. Some of the creatures made wet clacking sounds with their beaks, it was lunch hour for them to. Brianna's eyes followed hers. "Nathan?" her voice squeaked in question to the box.

"We must hurry the inevitable." the woman called and she was made to face the group once more. She set the knife aside this time and her hand flicked out to the one holding the tray. "Brother. The next instrument. Pass it to me."

Brianna watched with dread as the wiry hand brushed over each instrument. The limp fingers lingered over the hook collection and the scalpel. A thumb and two fingers picked up the probe and she screwed her eyes shut. Her heart jumped. A second glance, _That's no probe._ She was careful not to look too pleased, she wasn't sure if she had reason to be yet. The woman noticed his slowness. "Brother make hurry! That is not a tool. That is a torch. Something sharp. Now!" The tray fell to the floor with a clatter and the probe was the only tool he held. He unhooded himself. _Mr Smith?!_

"You really shouldn't have left a spare uniform by the door."

The creatures were clucking and squawking hysterically. Their confusions was matched only by her own. _What the hell are you doing here?!_ She questioned but was given little time to do so. Mr Smith flicked a switch on the torch and it screeched in a painfully high pitch. The creatures reeled at the sound, covering their stumpy ears with their long fingers. She had no such luxury, restrained by the wrist as she was. Her ears were ringing even after it stopped. He came close to her and her ropes were untied. Sore and red though they were, him grabbing her by the wrist was the most welcome thing she had felt in the past hour.

"Move fast." he commanded, a mere inch between their forehead.

Pulling her from her chair she struggled to keep up, her legs flailing underneath her clumsily. The creature were composing themselves, a few already making the chase after them.

"What is that thing?! How does it make that noise?! You said it was a torch!" she showered the man with questions, her breath running short, her heart pounding hard. Somehow, despite it all, she was smiling. She was scared, but this running felt like winning.

"It's a caretaker's torch! Also know as a screwdriver and very clever. Now if you want to stay alive talk less and run faster."

John ran like there were no obstacles in his way whilst Brianna had to swerve and bend around the cabinets, pulled out chairs and fallen stock. At the doorway he released her hand but they still ran together. The gang of cloaked creature came to a shuddering halt at the door, their long fingers clawing at the outside air, their clacking beaks cursing some unseen barrier.

"Won't they follow us?" Brianna gave a pointed nod to the doorway. John jumped over a conveyor belt. She suddenly realised it was there and slid under. He was laughing. _Why is he laughing?!_

"Ha ha, those things? No. Lunch time is over," as if on cue the bell rang, workers were pouring in. The door closed. "And they know they're far too hideous to show themselves in public."

He jumped over the second conveyor belt, again, she slid under. They were on the other side of the warehouse now, where her little corner had been. With her tools and her worktops. John was allowing himself a breather and she assumed she could too. She went to her workspace, Bootstrap hadn't arrived yet so she rummaged through his tools. Having found what she was looking for, she returned to caretaker.  
"This is my screwdriver." she showed him the thing. The metal was old and the handle was plain wood. She pocketed it without another words. It was hers and she didn't count on coming back later for it. "What do we do now?" she asked him, he seemed much more fluent in these matters that she. She was still shaking and panting. She went to wipe sweat from her brow but her sleeve came back red, she had forgotten she was bleeding. On the hand, John looked like he could run another 20 miles, but his face seemed torn, as if deciding something. It was a moment before he spoke.

"Do you want to go home?" It was an odd question, he kept looking up to her injuries. She wiped again, but the blood kept coming back fresh. She felt feint.

"Home?" she looked at him queerly. _I don't even have one!_ "I want to find whoever killed my friend. I want them to hurt." She was blacking out fast. Having fallen to her knees he followed to keep her steady. _Him._ "And I want you to explain. Cause your not a caretaker are you? Are you? Are?" she slept.


	4. An Industrial Mourning Pt 3

She was in no position to agree to the medicine, feeling what she did now, had she been able to, she would've said no in the time it took to snap her fingers. _Medicines supposed to make you feel better but I'm burning._ She thought between ragged breaths. The rise and fall of her chest was sharp and frequent. In a effort to cool herself she sought to shed her work wear but her fingers were so wet with sweat she couldn't grip the first button. She groaned at her failure and fell limp; defeated.

"Another ten minutes and you'll be perfectly fine." Smith's voice was above her. Earlier, the quest for cool air led her away from him. She had found a flight of steps and shuffled down them.

 _Perhaps it wasn't medicine. Perhaps he's drugged me! Perhaps I'm going to die!_ Perhaps the heat was getting to her head but the enigma of Mr Smith was growing by the minutes. She had woke with his brows above her, breathing heat into his face. When he gave her space she saw the room she was in was unlike any other she had seen before. There was a glowing pillar in the centre surrounded by a ring of switches. A second higher floor was around them storing books and weird round things on the walls. Smith ascended to this floor. He walked with a familiarity whereas she gawped at the strangeness. It would have sent her heart racing had it not already been doing so from her rising body temperature. Part of her heading downstairs had been want to get away, from it, and from him, as it had been to find cold surfaces.

She may have failed at the buttons but she could easily kick out of her shoes. Socks were more difficult, but soon the bare skin was pressed against the cold metal. _Sweet, cold, blessed metal!._ She stretched her fingers against the metal till it warmed then cooled her skin against a colder spot. Her forehead she rolled left to right. There was metalabove her, below her, to either side. _Hehe, it's like I'm in the hull of a ship._ Heat was making her giddy. She began to wonder if the round things up top were actually port holes when she caught a glimpse of Smiths polished boots on a head roll that made her face the stairs. She lifted her head weakly, vaguely aware that she was star fished and sweating on her stomach with a strange man approaching. He looked different now. She sought to sit but only managed a small slump against the arching wall. The pillar was glowing warmly above her. _I'm sick of warmth,_ her mind spat, _never though I would miss the cold till now._

He was besides her now. His thumb and forefinger circling her wrist and pulling up her sleeve. In his over hand, he presented to her a needle.

"This one should bring your temperature back down." he had told her. Again, she could not protest but this time she didn't want to. The cold press of the needle was a small relief and then her arm was beginning to feel noticeably cooler. He left her again, and she sat their for some time. She sat there long after her breathing had steadied and passed when she able to think in a more coherent manner. True to her nickname, she sat in a glum stupor reflecting on where she found her self. Smith was working overhead, the sort of work that involved bashing the ring of switches with something equally metal; Brianna didn't look forward to intervening. Her eye's frequently fixed on the stairs however, knowing she would have to ascend eventually. Once that had stopped and the room was silent she noticed the frequent thrums that lingered in the air. She counted them. Each time reaching four then she started again. It was an even rhythm and she levelled her breathing with it. In. Out. In. Out. Her eyes drifted shut and when she opened them again more time had passed and her mind was pleasantly empty. She pulled her eyebrows down and realised she must have been meditating. And with that realisation she shook her self into full alertness, but ascended the stairs more comfortably than she could've before. He was waiting there.

"You're awake." said he. She looked him over. He really was a different person now. Gone were the workplace overalls. The mop of grey hair had been combed into something neater and on his shoulders he wore a deep red velvet jacket, she had seen a flash of it earlier when he pressed the needle into her veins.

"I wasn't sleeping." she replied, her eyes fell upwards taking in the scope of the room.

"Well you were quiet for over an hour. How are you feeling now?" he asked the question but was working at the same time. A glance over to her and he concluded that question wouldn't be answered just now.

"Where am I?" she asked him, after her eyes followed the pillar upwards and she discovered the room was in the shape of a dome. _What kind of rooms are also domes?_

"You're in the TARDIS." he had halted his work and was watching her curiously

"TARDIS?" she responded without pause. Smith's voice was thick with Scotland, but he had never sounded foreign until now. Her eyes found the exit and the word 'Police' inverted at the top. _That box!_ She was marching towards it, her pace quick but his quicker. They were side by side at the door when she tried to open it.  
"It's locked!" she exclaimed rattling at the handle. His hand was on hers in an attempt to settle her but right then she felt far from settled.

"Trust me, right now you don't want to be looking outside those doors." he sensed her unease and released her hand.

"Well I don't want to stay in here!." she retorted. Understanding this door was a dead end she launched her self back towards the central pillar, circling it like a hound after it's tail. Her eyes scanned the walls searching for another exit. "Where's another door?" she demanded of him and he was stumbling through a reply for her to be calm when she spotted a doorway. _Not an exit. But perhaps it leads to one._ At that thought she ran. Smiths outstretched hand followed her path in an arch. From his mouth fell a string of desperate no's that became smaller and smaller to her ears the further she ran.

* * *

The further she ran down the corridors the more lost she became. Each turn she took dumped her in a corridor she had not long left behind. The few times she had stumbled upon a door it did little to calm her nerves. At the start she was sure she was in some underground government base. Those creatures in the processing room had clearly been government experiments gone wrong. Or aliens. And not the friendly Zygon kind. She had stumbled upon them, or was set to be one if what they told her was to be believed. Why wouldn't she be locked up for that. Her confidence in the theory was waning as the rooms opened themselves to her. The first door, instead of the exit she longed for, opened up to a four floored library. The only door in there she found led straight back into the maze of corridors. The second led her into a rectangular kitchen, thrice the length of the grandest she had ever seen. Despite it's size the familiarity was calming. Up until she spotted the pool the near size of lake with strange animals arching out of the waters. She didn't bother walking through the third room. A plethora of clothes were hanged on snaking rails. She knew she would be lost amongst them in moments. Back in the corridors her frantic run had become a dilapidated stroll. She contemplated returning to the domed room and submitting herself for questioning. Looking back she saw the corridors twist and turn. The way she came now replaced with curving dark metal. _Not even the government's capable of this..._ Forward was her only option.

* * *

(console room. Minutes earlier.)

He had paced long enough to wear down the soles of his shoes. Now each step was accompanied dull shooting pain in his ankle. The TARDIS was thrumming as he lingered around the doorway. With one hand on either side of the frame he spoke.

"Will you take me to her?" he asked and ship thrummed in response. Even so, he hesitated to act.

"Doctor, if she thinks you chasing after her she'll only run faster." he turned to where he had placed the voiceless silhouette. She was leaning over him on the railings. He pictured her with her arms folded, straight hair falling either side of the featureless pink face. The frustration surged. With fisted hand he bashed himself upside the head. Composure came forcefully. He shook his head and reminded himself not to do that again. The eyeless face was waiting completely still.

"I know that. It's just... Usually they don't run further IN to the TARDIS. She could be miles away if SHE'S not on my side," he complained, pointing blame towards the central pillar. The pillar beeped in response. For a moment he thought the silhouette had turned her head to look.

"She's looking out for her Doctor. She'll keep her safe... That's not a bad start don't you think?."

"I still need to find her though. She needs the final dose." he was marching up the step to the column. Communicating with his ship through the buttons. _I'm being a Doctor..._ He thought silently, his eyes whipping passed a distant blackboard. _Isn't that what you asked of me?_

" _Show her that."_ The voice thought back at him.

"It's too much too soon," he told her. The Doctor knew the extent of Mopey's past few days. He knew it would be soon for him too. "She's not ready to see the stars."

"Ease her into it." A hand was on his, guiding it across the switches. "It's time you moved on." he could feel the smile in her voice. The weight on his hand left and he finished imputing the command to his ship.  
"Can you do that for me?" he asked the command pillar. It responded with a low thooom. The floor vibrated with it's passing. From the corridors he could hear the metal rearranging itself and his path was made clear.

* * *

The closer she walked to the double doors the less hallway was behind her for her to retreat. The wall was slowly following her. Each time she took a foot it took two. When the door knob was in arms reach the wall was pressed fully against her back. She felt the sting of coldness through the fabric of her work wear. They were old doors of solid and polished oak. The door knobs shone with good maintenance with large ornate key holes beneath them in place of the control panels she was more accustomed to. She had been given few options, so both her hands reach out to the handles. They were stiff to turn, but turn they did and as they opened outwards the sudden light cast Brianna's eyes downwards. Pressing onwards her bare feet felt the change from cold metal to sun warmed wood panels. Having adjusted to the light she found the slats carried on to either side of her, hugging the perimeter of the curved green hedgerow the door had been embedded in. The hedgerow was endless in height and formed something of a shadowy alcove, she could see little of what lay beyond it but quickly got the impression that she had landed in a garden. _This is impossible._

Gingerly she walked the slats. At the end the ground slopped gently downwards and she could see the entirety of the garden. It was walled with high mountains and the sky was blue above.

"Dear god!" she exclaimed, "I'm in bloody in Narnia," there was no one around to contradict her. In truth she knew this was not the fabled land of childhood fictions; it was not a woodland she looked over but a space of elaborately trimmed hedgerows, cut grass, quaint wooden bridges and stone pathway. But if not Narnia, the reality was beyond her comprehension.

Perhaps she had found the exit after all, she felt much more at ease in the open air. Down the hill, just before the fenced lake, was a small stone house with smoke rising from it's chimney. Brianna thought it the best place to investigate, so down the hill she went.

The house was much larger on approach, more like a manor. With not one chimney but three placed at the right, the left and centre sides of the manor. It was still made of stone, a deep red sandstone so that observation had been true. Large rectangular windows looked down on her like wide eyes. She walked through the smaller garden, to the steps that led up to the door and knocked using the brass lion knocker. No reply. She checked the side windows but could see no one within. She knocked again. Of it's own accord the door open. Brianna popped her head around before entering entirely.

"Hello?" she called, but the house answered her with an echo of her own voice. "Does anybody live here?" she asked again. The house echoed. "I've sort of...found myself in your garden. I don't mean to intrude it's just-" she gave up when the echoes persisted. Looking around she could not reasonably believe the house was lived in. It was not abandoned, the fires were lit but there were no logs or kindling to replenish the flames. On the mantlepiece were a row of ceramic ornaments; little statues of children at play, pale painted pots with floral patterns painted on the lids. The fireplace was boarded by tiles, minimalistic in design, white with deep blue illustration. The sofas and chairs were pleasantly arranged to face the large window overlooking the gardens, the light outside warming the reddish brown leather of their surface. On the walls were painting of landscapes but despite these things the room lacked a personal touch that only frequent residence could provide. It was this lacking that set Brianna's nerves on fire. There were no family portraits, newspapers, mail. No footprints in the woodwork save her own, nor any butt grooves in the sofa save for that which she carved out when the walking had exhausted her. And the whole house was beyond dated.

She wondered into the kitchen to find the continued absence of people and an equally empty larder. There was no food to be found except for the brown loaf decoratively placed top a board on the centre table. Her stomach grumbled, reminding her how hungry she had been, she didn't know how long she had been without food. She sawed off a crust with a knife near by and hacked away at the food stuff with her jaw. For her second helping, she lounged in the side room in the chair she deemed most comfortable, gazing happily outside the window. It did not evade her how strange it was to find an empty property in a strange garden after getting lost in a metal maze after waking up burning in a strange room after... _Sigh._ It had been a busy few days to say the least.

 _Could be a rental property,_ a stray thought suggested but her mind was mostly churning out government conspiracies.

Upstairs was as vacant at down, with each bedroom looking fit and prim for an 19th century showroom. The floorboards squeaked underfoot and she thought of it as a sweet novel sound to her ears. The room she creaked into had a window on two side beaming light across the four poster bed. Facing it and the windows was a large solid wood wardrobe. It was an imposing thing with a warm mahogany colour and two side cupboards off the main wardrobe, even so it was significantly less intimidating to the one she had stumbled into earlier. The doors creaked as she eagerly took a peek inside.

Even pressed together as they, Brianna thought the dresses the most beautiful things she had ever laid eyes on. Her hands ghosted over the fabrics, silks, satins and velvets. One dress grabbed her eyes with it's colour and she pulled the blue thing from it's hanger to appreciate it properly. She spread it over the bed and brushed her fingers over the lace trimmings and the ruffles.

 _I've travelled back in time!_ Brianna thought to herself as she tried to ascertain what era such clothing was from.

A bit of girlish glee was skipping into her heart. She wanted to tried it on. Spotting a long mirror in a forgotten corner she eagerly pressed the dress against her front and waddled for a look. She was grinning stupidly, her anticipation mounting all until she saw the bloody face looking at her in the mirror and for a moment she had forgotten that face was her. The dress was dropped. The blood had dried on her face and she hadn't felt it. She had resolved to wash her face, if not now it could well be never. Placing the dress neatly on the bed, she set out in search of water. Loathsomely there was none in the house; not a pipe, not a cup, not a puddle.

The grass felt good underneath her feet as she headed towards the lake. There were insects buzzing all around her but they kindly paid her no heed. On her knees she dipped her face into the water, her hands working at the sores until they were clean. Water was dripping off her chin and nose was she had finished, each drop causing ripples on the surface, distorting the image of her self the water cast back. She could see that she was clean, her face was feeling fresh but she was looking past her reflections eyes.

If she had ever truly convinced herself that she was out of the metal maze the water proved her wrong. To test her query she plunged both hands into the deep. The water was lapping at her elbows when they met the ground. It was not silt or soil her fingers clawed at but smooth metal. The maze was no longer scaring her, she was only disappointed. She cupped her hands and brought water to her mouth. It tasted good on her tongue, so much so her eyes fell closed and she sighed between gulps. When her eyes opened there was another reflection next to hers. Their eyes met in the water.

"Time And Relative Dimensions In Space." he told her. She squinted, then the pieces fell into place.

"TARDIS?" He nodded solemnly. The word 'Time' stood out to Brianna. _The Time Academy is Government._ "Am I underground?" When she asked this he crouched down next to her in the water. The lake came up to his knees and was soaking into the lower velvet of his jacket.

"No"

There were am I?"

"You're in my spaceship."

"Space?" she was waiting to wake up. "...Why am I here?"

"What's going on on Earth with the Taelipi is to sensitive, temporally speaking, for me to just stand about waiting. I had to take you away from those events so I could overlook you recovery."

"The Taelipi. Those things, that's what they were called? They said I was going to be like them."

"Not any more." he replied, "What I gave you earlier changed your body to make it compatible with the cure. Raising you body temperature slowed the spores transformation till it exhausted it's lifespan. It was an experimental procedure but you turned out just fine." He had rose to go, water dripping of his fabrics as he offer her his hand. " Come with me." her eyes flickered between his and his hand, there were a few tears threatening to fall.

"I don't think I believe you." she told him, her throat tight with uncertainty.

"I think you do, and if you come with me back to the console room I can show you. Or we could pop into that house over there. Really, anything which isn't knee deep water will be just a good." She nodded to that, her lower legs had been numbing as they talked. She took his hand but let go once she was on her feet. "The house," she told him, and to the house they went.

She had left the door ajar earlier, and as he reached the door he closed it, knocked three times and it opened again. This time when she walked it it was not the same house. Well it was, but what was absent before was now there in plenty. The wooden floor had been discoloured by regular foot fall, there were old coats and umbrellas hanging to her side. The living room now more closely resembled a library with the number of books sprawled about the place. As she followed him to the back room the kitchen was all but gone. The tiled floor and side cabinets remained and were now in the glow of the ringed pillar that replaced the central table.

"The console unit can be wherever I want it to be. Now pick your jaw up and pull up a chair this isn't what I want you to see." Grabbing a tall stool she sat herself next to the pillar, her hands rested patiently on the button board whilst Smith worked around her.

"This whole day's been completely madness." she told him as he came to a hold.

"The good kind or the bad kind?"

"I'm covered in scratches!" she exclaimed as if it answered his question. His eyes widened and he threw himself to one of the foodless cabinets she had examined earlier. Something was in his hands when he returned, to her it looked like breath spray. He spritzed it in the air around her creating a golden mist that tickled her face.

"Nanogenes." he explained, "Should fix you up in no time." she watched in awe as the golden fireflies danced across her skin. When there work was done they dropped like flies. She touched her face. The wounds were gone.

"I barely felt it," she grinned, "Couldn't you have done that instead of leaving me to boil earlier."

"Back then it would have most likely turned you into fungus."

"Madness...," Brianna was still touching her face in disbelief.

"You've seen nothing yet." Smith had told her, he had his screwdriver in hand. It whirred in it's upwards direction and when her eyes followed she saw the roof above her crumble away in static. All of the upper floor had vanished and she was staring at the open sky. That too was about to change. Like a sheet of paper placed above a candlle the skies burnt away in yellow flame. It had left the pair under a giant circular window with the real sky beyond. Only a fringe of blackness was caught in the frame. Two thirds of the window were filled with one third of a burning star. Brianna felt the need to be closer to the ground when she looked up, her heart pounding with mixed fear and awe. She looked back to him with a face that asked "Is that real?"

"It's real." he replied with a smile. _Such a easy smile,_ Brianna thought at the sight. For the first time she felt she could really see him and it made her feel strange. Her eyes were fixated. Her forehead scrunched together in concentration. It made her chest ache and her heart constrict. He was watching her too. The smile slowly waned, replaced with concern, occasionally he found his hands very interesting but she was his focus.

"It can be a lot to take first time I know but-"

"No." Brianna felt her voice no longer belonging to her.

"No?" he shot her a confused look, like he was reassessing her. She blinked herself back into clarity.

"I mean...Yes. It's a lot. These past few days but-" _sigh_ "I swear I've seen you before." He was put at ease, then explained.

"A friend of yours called me the other day. When I arrived they were trying to put out your fever with in bath. I put a stop to that. For most of when I was there you were unconsciousness but eyes did open from time to time."

She was shaking her head, "I don't remember any of that."

"Human minds. You never really forget anything. Sometimes you just forget how to find it." For the briefest of moments **she** was on his mind. _Perhaps it's true for Time Lords too,_ he could only hope.

Outside those walls the flames still crackled as they laid claim to the landscape. Mountains afar flaked away in the embers, leaving behind a digital canvas. The star was flaring above them.

"All that talk." Brianna contemplated, "You sound like a doctor. Or a scientist."

"I am a Doctor. Of sorts."

"Ok. You healed me, and you look clever. I can believe that. Why pose as a caretaker?"

"The needs of my patients." _The human race,_ he added in thought. "And there are still things to take care of. I'll be going back there soon and when I do...Brianna?" she nodded, "You'll have a choice to make."

"Hold on. You said experimental?! I was an experiment!" She roared at him a sudden, shoving his shoulder but only her chair rocked at the impact.

"You were dying! I did what I had to do." he replied indignantly with a point of his finger.

"Without even asking first! What if there's side effects!"

"Side effects?! If I had waited for you to tell me what you wanted you would've been talking through a beak or a corpse! There are risks with what I do. When a death is inevitable all that matters is making it count. You were the first to survive. Remember that. For the rest of your life no matter how long or short you want to make it, you'll be building it on the backs of those that broke to make this." A syringe was brought forward for her to take. Through the glass she could see a silver liquid swimming around like liquid mercury.

"First to survive... How many people died?" when thinking of the nameless dead, she could only picture Nathan. _Was he really in that box?_ Avoiding her gaze, Smith was attending to the controls, but Brianna thought she caught a glimpse of sadness beneath his brows.

"It doesn't matter now." The pillar whirred, startling her in her seat. She was turning the syringe over in her hand.

"It would mean something to me."

"Well it means nothing to me. What matters is this," He came to her. With both his hand he cupped the one in which she held the syringe. Guiding her, the round side of the glass was pressed against her chest."Take your medicine. This is your final dose, it should lock in the changes and leave you immunised against any Taelipi still in your system." he went to walk, then turned back, "But you're probably worried about side effects aren't you? Fair enough. Tell your doctor you're now allergic to penicillin. And aspirin. And lucozade. And don't take It on an empty stomach. And if your feet turn green that's completely fine but even if you do none of that you go home, you keep living." he continued, "For those that can't.".

He was manipulating switches with angry flicks of his hand, the pillar beeped as if to chastise him and she was sitting in her chair feeling lonely, rolling words soundlessly over the tip of her tongue.

 _I have no home. Maybe you saved the wrong one._ These things she did not say. Through strained voice she asked him. "What are you going to do now?"

"I'll take us back to Earth. To England. To that little warehouse with it's little problems and I'll fix all of them as usual and disappear." Another flick made the room flashed. The kitchen walls had snapped away and they were back in the domed room she had first awoken in. She arrived without her chair and fell hard on her arse. The final dose rolled some and she crawled to fetch it before standing.

"What will you do with me?"

"Nothing Brianna." he answered, "What are you going to do with yourself?"

"I don't know."

"Don't you now. I said earlier that you'd have a choice to make. That's still true. I can take you home. You'll be safe once you take that. You won't need to worry about growing anything and I can have the factory dealt with by morning. Worst case scenario you grab everyone you care about, hop on a train and build a home somewhere else, BW incorporated has a very limited sphere of influence, just London and space probably. That's the gist of option one. The door is unlocked now. You can pretend this never happened." With a hand he gestured towards the door. Again she remembered it from last night in the car park.

"That door," she said to him with a finger point, " I saw it on a box the other night."

"And I saw you. Open those doors and you can go home."

 _Home,_ the word alone made her feel sad. "What's option two?"

"You stay with me. For today at least and once this is all done you can make that choice again."

 _I can spare a day._ "Will we be going back to the warehouse?" she was particularly eager to confront her boss, and there was unfinished business waiting for her in the processing room. He was smiling at her smile, a stray hand worked his machine. "Take me with you Doctor Smith." _just for today._ He complied and when the pillar boomed and moved this time she wasn't startled. Within the pillar the internal mechanisms rise and fell in steady seized control and when the motions threatened to throw her off balance she gripped the ring of controls, her arms crossing his as he did the same.


	5. An Industrial Mourning Pt 4

**AN: finally at the last part of this part. I got distracted when I starting writing the next chapter before this one and as a result it's not what I originally intended it to be but it gets across the needed thing. To all the people still tagging along, thank you! The next chapter will be back to Clara and crew, though currently mostly Ashildr and crew as Clara gets some bed rest. The format in which I'm writing this might be changing from what I had originally intended but so long as it ends up being for the better I like to think it hardly matters.**

* * *

It had been too easy to slide the needle into the skin of her neck. That's what worried her. How quickly she had shook herself free from her Taelipi captor, knocked him from his feet with a punch a launch herself behind Ms Maple as she rose the gun to the Doctor's chest. The gun had fired towards the ceiling harming no one but the Taelipi were quick too recover. These were not like those they had left in the processing room, all though some of them were amongst these numbers, those that stood around them had been aged out of their senses, animals of instinct, nothing human remained. Brianna found herself being pulled into two different directions, a Taelip behind her sought to restrain her, whilst Ms Maple had her gripped at the wrist. Her face was reddening by the second. The Doctor;s concoction working and burning through her veins as it had with her.  
"Brianna..." Doctor Smith sighed from afar, the disapproval in his gaze was unlike any she had witnessed before, "What have you done?"

"But...you've fixed it with me, you can do it again. Now we have to get out."

"She's well beyond saving now Brianna."

When Ms Maple had collapse on the floor in a fit of long ragged breathes the Taelipi around them had began clacking their beaks in rapid succession. Brianna only just took note of it, the talons restraining her had loosened, the glowing eyes of the Taelipi all fixed on their fallen leader whose grip on her wrist had only grown stronger.

"It was promised that I would be safe, that I would be spared..." Ms Maple rambled, the heat getting the better of her. Some of the Taelipi were moving closer, and soon one launched over Maple's lying body.

"Brianna! Door now!" The Doctor called to her as the Taelipi moved as one to feed on Ms Maple. Animals of instinct; they fed on the weakest. Brianna was paling fast, her legs refusing to move. It took the Doctor to get them working as he led her towards the office door and locked it shut behind them.

"I didn't mean to do that! I didn't-didn't..." her legs gave out beneath her, she would have fallen down the steps if she didn't have sense to grab the railing. The Doctor pulled her to her feet.

"It's done now, that's all that matters." he grumbled through thin lips. Her legs were stronger now despite the ongoing screams from the room behind. Smith was charging downwards.

"Wait! What about the Taelipi?!"

"They're at the end of their lifespan. Once they've finished feeding they'll sleep themselves to death. Which is as good as life gets when you're a parasitic fungus." Once more she followed him through the halls of the office wing in it's evening hours. "There's still one half of this transaction we've got to deal with." he declared and very soon they were facing the door to the processing room. Inside was just as dark as before but the orange lights over head now bounced off bare grey walls. The Doctor was examining the stock, picking up strange jar after strange jar, coils of wire, metal ingots and stacks of circuit boards. To each one he gave a thoughtful nod before tossing aside for the next. "Search the shelves Brianna," the Doctor asked of her, "Find the most alien thing you can and bring it to me. With any luck I can accurately guess it's origin."

Brianna had half a mind to do so but she began thinking about earlier and the box that had lay unopened behind her. It was still where they had left it, the wooden coffin closed as she approached it. She jolted at the hand that patted her shoulder but it was only Doctor Smith.  
"You don't want to look in there." he told her, his eyes full of sadness.

"I don't think I can live with myself if I don't." Brianna lowered herself next to the crate, her hand lingering on the latch which would open it. Doctor Smith was right, she didn't want to look but by the time she reached that conclusion the metal latch had been flicked with a clank. _He was only 25. He use to work in the fields but there's no work once harvests gone._ The lid lifted, only slightly, just enough for the light to pour through and she closed it. "He was only 25." Her voice was a weak squeak as Smith helped her to her feet and ushered her away.

"Ms Maple was trading human lives in exchange for the technology brought into this room. It never arrived by van, only what they exported and the humans went by van, which begs the question, who are they exporting to?"

"Okay," said Brianna wiping away the last of her tears, "Who are they exporting to?"

"No idea, but that's not important just now. They've been receiving the technology in this room but they don't send off humans in this room, that's being done through isolated teleport links across London. Which means somewhere in this room there is a teleport system which is unable to transport living matter."

"Doctor Smith?" her eyes caught something strange and concerning.

"Just the Doctor, Brianna. Save yourself some syllables."

"All the Taelipi are up in the office right?" she prayed to be right.

"As far as I can tell. Why?" he was following her after answering.

"There's still a curtain over there." What she said was true. By the back of the room hanging between two stacks of railing was a black partition. It was out of the reach of the orange lights above but something paler shone through the threads. Doctor Smith utilised his screwdriver as they neared it. It buzzed endlessly and Brianna couldn't discern it's purpose. He ended up scrunching the curtain in his hands before breathing a sigh of release.

"It's just cloth." he said, and she sighed too. A Taelipi's hanging would be more spongy to the touch with the slightness friction sending off a plume of spores. "Oh..." the Doctor said, and Brianna mimicked.

"Oh?" At first he had simply peeked behind the curtain, now he whipped the cloth entirely off it's railing. The threads had hidden a light source, a white crack running along the wall. The sight of it was almost blinding. Brianna went to shield her eyes.

"What is that?" she asked.

"Not a teleport link..." he answered, "Far more dangerous than a teleport link." he approached it fearlessly and with hesitation Brianna followed but was in no way as enamoured with what was in front of them than the Doctor, who stared into all four corners of the light as if he could see what lies beyond. Brianna only heard voices but that was nothing new to her. "A crack in the universe. Time torn and improperly stitched together." his hand was caressing the edge and his lips were moving, rapidly and soundlessly and then his hand recoiled.

"What? What was that?!" Brianna asked, his sharp movement made her jump. The Doctor was examining his hand.

"Something just brushed past me. Something on the other side." _how many sides?_ He wondered.

"Something on the other side?" she squinted through the light, "I can't see anything." he was ignoring her. "Doctor? Doctor?!"

He jumped to his feet. "Well, nothing we can do here. Off we go."

"But you said it was dangerous." she protested.

"It is. And I can fix it. Eventually. But not in here. Have I shown you yet? The TARDIS can travel through time! We'll be going back a few nights ago to when you were taken and chase the teleport link from then. We won't be getting anything from a hole in the wall."

"No..." said she. They had been leaving the crack in the wall, through the racking towards the door and happened to have taken the route with the pine coffin mid way through. _His family should know..._

"No?" the Doctor asked on turning.

"You said I had a choice to make, remember? I think- I think I'm making it now and no. I can't leave him here again. I can't go with you."

"I've a time machine Brianna. You'd be back here in 30 seconds if you wished it."

"No." she echoed, and it was an echo, quieter than the one before it. Under the shadows the Doctor could hear her crying begin anew. He held his own sadness and willed himself to leave. Heading back to the TARDIS he knew he was about to see her again and for the sake of time and space he would keep her safe.

* * *

(Two weeks later)

The only positive about this morning so far was that the heat of it had been eased by a pleasant breeze. She had felt it through her open window as she packed her belongings into a sports bag. She had grown comfortable here, and so the number of items she owned had swelled and now threatened the integrity of the bags zipper. Some how she made it all fit after having rearranged two coats of hers to wrap around the bags strap as she walked. She had closed the bedroom door placing her keycard on a bedside cabinet before hand. The goodbyes she said with her room mates were void of substance. Perhaps it hadn't sunk in for them that she wouldn't be coming back this evening, or perhaps they didn't care either way. What ever the truth, she approached the front door under a cloud of finality. She didn't know what lay beyond the next few weeks but it wasn't here. On the other side the breeze came stronger, threatening to blow her away or at the very least one of her flailing coats. To the side control panel she presented her palm and her keycard. The latter she then posted through the wide brass letter slot. Turning, she spied she was not the only one caught in the breeze. His upper shoulders leaned on the wood of his police box but lower down there was space for his coat to wave, red lining whipped at the air yearning to fly yet hopelessly tethered to this immovable force. His hair was leaping from his body too. The whole world seemed to be moving but not him, he was a constant, or so it seemed in that moment. Brianna took the stairs down, keeping the vacant road between them.

"I didn't think I'd see you again."

"Does that disappoint you?" Brianna analysed the question. _Would he really leave if I told him?_ The though made her heart shrink.

"It surprises..." she told him honestly, "I don't think we've been in each others company long enough to know if we disappoint. But still, it's been two weeks. Where have you been? What happened?"

"Two weeks?!" he seemed surprised. "I though it was five minutes."

Brianna made faces which said she was about to press for questions before she remembered how the blue box, the TARDIS could travel through time. _So much cooler that a wrist strap,_ the dreaming child in her thought. "How were those five minutes then."

"Felt closer to five hours. I found and followed a teleport link. It took me to a cluster of space ships disguised as stars. A collaboration of six scientifically inclined species have been sedating humans in this area with Taelipi spores and sending them to several academies throughout the cosmos. Only humans in this area Brianne. That crack we found in the wall. It's been here longer than I thought, affecting the local atmosphere. Half of London is now a little bit more than human. Including you. Including all your friends. I almost can't blame them, I'm curious."

"You think we're not human? That's ridiculous." but after those thoughts had turned Brianna head jerked under the shelter of her hand. Her body shook and she was on the ground. He was besides her just a quickly as her spell had passed.

"Brianna?" he asked, his coarse voice light with concern.

"I'm fine, I'm fine. I'm sorry, I'm fine. I just hadn't eaten this morning. It can happened." she rambled beneath the covering of her fingers. When they parted from her eyes she was presented with a steel case holding eight tiny jelly people. Confusion quickly passed and she smiled at the oddity. He inclined his head as if to offer her one. She complied joyfully, decapitating a red jelly infant.

"Sugar can help," he told her closing and pocketing the case, " And after that, tea. I suggest we find a cup."

"Oh, I love tea. Me and Mercy occasionally go to this one tea place on top of one of those office blocks. But the teas the only real thing in there. It's all plastic trees, plastic hedges, plastic scones. It's fun to pretend though."

"Plastic scones sound nice but I think I know somewhere better. By the southern end of lake Buttermere in 1788. Or possibly 92, I don't rightly remember when their management changed and the place became somewhat presentable. Do you remember the you made Brianna?"

"I- I remember." she didn't think it would show up again so her answer was no better than that.

"I'd like you to make it again. Because even if you think what I said earlier was ridiculous you believe it. I know you do, you must, you've seen it."

"Some of it I wish I could unsee. Do you live you're life like that? Is life supposed to have so much death in it?"

"Without death how do we measure our life. I don't like it any more than you do but we can be our most alive self when death is evident. But no, I don't always spend my life like that. I'm the Doctor and I made a promise. I've made many promises but when I can, where I can I save people. Those people like you teleported to the stars, I save some them. Not all of them, it's never all of them. But there walking through these streets this very morning trying to make sense of what's happened to them. Some will go made, some will find hope and some will try and forget. Have you decided what you'll do yet. After all you've had two weeks. Apparently."

She thought she had made that choice when she had lean over Nathan's coffin. In that moment she had been mad.. Anger and sorrow had to be bottled and subdued so she could stay strong and lie both the police and Nathan's parents about the cause of his death. It hadn't been easy, a story of feral dogs had proven not very believable. The stress had built up within her until one night she kept hitting her head against the wall at regular intervals and pour her sorrows into the laps of unfamiliar hostel residents. After that, she tried to return to whatever would be her new normal. Her eviction was waiting for her, and after the death of her boss her factory suffered an unexpected arson attack, she now wondered if she had the Doctor to thank for that, but that added to an already saturated job market and she had little motivation to search. That brought her to today.

 _Today..._ She pondered whilst prodding her sports bag with a finger. "I'm sort of homeless," she confessed sadly, "I don't know what I'm suppose to do now."

"Homeless? I did notice. I'm sort of that too, but I've always known what to do. Run away. Stop playing by their rules."

"Run away? With...you?"

"If that's what you want. It's what I want, I've travel alone for a while, not sure how long. But you can pick up that bag and walk that way if you want. Or that way or that way. Or through those doors and then where ever." Brianna didn't notice when they stood, her bag suddenly weightless on her shoulder. She wanted this. She could believe how much she wanted this. She halted in the doorway.  
"Why? Why do you want this? Why me?" Brianna asked.  
"The short story. I made a promise to someone that I would heal myself and I know what that requires. What it always requires."

"A promise? To who?"

His answer followed a delay, " To be honest I've lived too long I don't remember," it was quicker than having to explain neural blockers to the girl. "Close those doors Brianna. The universe is waiting." She did as asked and dropped her bag. Joining him at the console unit he had his head held high. She followed and watched the rotors spin, the internal mechanisms rose and fell and as the rhythmic thooming boomed into something else Brianna realised that after these two weeks she had found something else, and smiled.


	6. Combat Pt 1

**AN: Hello the few of you who've reached this far. As you'll soon notice we're back to Ashildr & crew. Whilst writing this and the plots for chapters to follow I've started contemplating Clashildr, If I elect to continue down this route I already know how it'l end but I am still a touch hesitate as it wasn't something I was planning from the get go. If any of you readers have an opinion on this that you may wish me to consider please let me know. At current I am concerned with how I'm writing the character's relations with each other. All is said and done for this chapter. Hope you stick around for the next.:)**

* * *

The bond between them was slow growing but certainly growing. Having blossomed from a visit to Jane Austen some weeks ago. There Johanna had emerged from one of the reception rooms, having left Jane and Clara giggling like pre-teens sprawled over a decorative rug rather than one of the vacant settees in the room. In the hallway, Ashildr was flatly reading a book on galifreyan mechanics. She was the only one amongst them who could read the language and though she and Clara could fly the TARDIS they knew only the minimal facts when it came to maintenance should something go wrong. What she was sitting on was more of a bench then anything suitable for guests, an intentional choice for Ashildr, when deprived of some comforts she found she could focus more.

"Third wheeled?" she asked Johanna, already knowing it to be true.

"I don't think they even noticed me leave," Johanna replied, taking a seat at the far end of the bench.

"Just you wait until they start talking about literature. We could die in agony and they'd never hear it." she flicked the page.

"What are you reading?"

"A book. Nothing you need to concern yourself with." Ashildr answered and went back to reread a passage she'd been distracted from.

"I saw a chess table in the other room. Do you play Ashildr?" Johanna asked. Ashildr's eyes followed her through an open door. A piano basked in the sun beams just behind that out of view she knew of the chess table with chairs set either side for play. It was tempting, and she wasn't going to get any reading done with Johanna casting a shadow on the page.

"I can play a game." Ashildr told her, "Set the board and I'll be with you in a minute."

That minute merely consisted of her packing the book into a bag. When she returned to Johanna half the pieces were in their place. She assisted in the preparation once taking her seat. The first move was hers and she moved her pawn.

"How's your catalogue going?" she asked from across the table. Johanna moved her piece.

"There's been nothing to write about. We still haven't seen the beast."

Delaying things had become a staple of her last three hundred years of travel. Clara barely ever walked passed the Raven Room. On a especially good day Ashildr too took measures to avoid it least be reminded of the finite nature of their journey.

"But it seems every time I walk passed you you're typing away at your computer. What is it you write about?"

"Oh...Reports, research, running a few computer simulations. Nothing you need to concern yourself with." Johanna smiled as she took her moved. Ashildr's face was one of sourness, especially after hearing her own dismissive words used against her. Hastily, Ashildr took her knight with her bishop, which was then claimed by Johanna's queen. She silently cursed the loss when Clara's laughter boomed through the halls. Other matters came to mind.  
"I've been meaning to ask you Johanna," Johanna acknowledged her with a questioning hum, "What level of clearance do you have a UNIT?"

"Level two. If I can give them the right reasons then it'll be level three." Johanna shuffled in her seat and Ashildr came to the assumption that she was lying. She turned her eyes to the board, "Why do you ask?"

Ashildr had no reason to lie. What she was intent on investigating was personal, not endangering. "There's a institute I want to look up. Their administrative files should be enough. If all's fine I should fine nothing in the UNIT databases. Can I have a look sometime?"

Johanna seemed to be looking anywhere but her. She licked her lips in thirst but there was nothing around to drink. A small bell to the side summoned a maid with a tray of tea, cups and sugar. They were stirring the granules into their drinks when Johanna finally settled on a response.

"I think I can get you that access." Johanna replied and Ashildr was glad. They raised their cups to the sound of Clara and Jane's stifled laughter outside the door, and lowered them just as soon as the first sip went down. Sour and salty was the tea they drank and as the two pranksters fled to their bedchamber Johanna and Ashildr were joined under a common goal.  
But that was some weeks ago. It was easier for them to feel unconflicted whilst in the heat of things. The past few days had been spent with an poorly trained militia aboard a once civilian oriented starship. Upturned market stalls served as a barricade from the remaining Ice Warrior approaching with force. Their turrets were down and only a handful of rifles were keeping the five at bay. A blast of orange flew over the barricade, knocking the ageing man beside Ashildr to the ground. He screamed and died and the barricade was held by one less gunman.

" _Johanna have you got that turret up and running yet!"_ she wanted to shout but to do so would be to put her in danger. Johanna had been so far unseen behind the Ice Warrior line in an abandoned apartment that had served the militia as a base of operation in the early days of the siege. Clara was hanging safely but uselessly above them by the ankle. Rendered unconsciousness by a traitor in the ranks. But her silence did not guarantee their safety. A bullet shot one square in the mouth, he fell dead by her gun by one of the younger conscripts cheered at his perceived success. One of the remaining four turned to Johanna's alcove and fired a single blast followed by a long pause. Ashildr faltered, certain their companion was dead. The string of blasts that soon followed provided strange relief. She turned to the youth, grabbing him by the collar and pulling him close so he could hear her over the gun fire.

"Cover me if you can!" she ordered and then released him.  
There were a series of steal pillars to shelter her as she ran. Her feet pitter-pattered against the fluid that drenched the floor, the first part of a trap that had yet to be enacted. Shots followed her with every stride but she arrived at the base unharmed and shielded herself behind a pillar. Bracing herself, she charged for the counter, launching herself over the now glassless upper half and landed on the other side. Shards stabs into the palm of her hand but the rush of the moment allowed her to dismiss the injury. Johanna was near hugging the floor, unable to rise to the terminal without consequence of death.

"One gunman isn't going to keep them away Jo! Get back to that terminal and work quickly!" the order was being heeded before she had finished uttering it and as Johanna hacked away at lines of code Ashildr emptied her ammunition into the approaching Ice warrior.

"Turrets online!" Johanna shouted."

"Everyone get back!" Ashildr did likewise so the militia on far knew to retreat. She watched them do so before inching back herself not for one second lessening her fire but eager to get away from the wet space that was once the market hall.

"Fire them. Fire them now." she told Johanna and the first laser bolt hit it's mark. Not at the Ice warriors, but at the floor itself. Gallons of fuel had been poured to lay the trap and now they went up in flames, lighting the Ice Warriors up in a screeching blaze. She remembered the wetness on her shoes, removed them quickly and threw them into the flames on the other side of the counter. Their screams soon died.

"Does that terminal have control of the sprinklers too?" Ashildr asked from where she lay on the floor.  
"Turning them on now." Johanna informed and soon after a shower fell over them and the flames were receding. "Come on. Let's get Clara." Ashildr took the offered hand and regained her footing. In the market hall the militia were emerging from one of the back store rooms, slowly at first, but once their foes were evidently dead they and the civilians poured out to cheer and offer their thanks. The acting militia commander was approaching them, approaching Johanna and he addressed only her.  
"Ma'am, our people are now safe, what remains of starship Australia is forever in your debt. But there is still the matter of-" This was happening more often, Ashildr observed, if Clara was out of the picture and sometimes when she was in it people tended to turn to Johanna as the trio's authority figure. Due to her age, so Ashildr concluded with frustration.

"Johanna," she interrupted, " Those civilians are lowering Clara down. You should help them, she'll want to see a familiar face when she wakes." Johanna walked away with no protest and Ashildr took her place in front of the commander, "Sorry Commander, you were saying...?"

"Err.. yes I was just saying. Traitor Dunsen, the law aboard this ship would have him executed for his crimes but seeing as one of your own crew was harmed by his deed, and the mentioned debt we are in to you, we thought you might want a say in what becomes of him."

Ashildr watched as Clara was being gently lowered to the ground. Johanna and one of the ships doctors were examining her for injuries. From where she stood there were none but for the past hour she had been plagued by the thought that if there flames had reached too high...

"How many people have died because of his interference Commander?"

"Two more died of injuries in the back room making thirteen Ma'am."

"Well then," she addressed him, "Execute him thirteen times if you can. After that they'll be no debt between us. Take what you need to rebuild from the Ice warrior's ship and change your starships identity as soon as you can. If you're lucky the other clans won't come seeking revenge."

"I-is that likely?" the Commander inquired, suddenly shivering at the thought.  
"Have you really not heard of the Ice warriors code Commander? 'Harm one of us and you harm us all'." she left him to ponder his options and approached Clara who was still out on the floor. The doctor and civilians had left, leaving only Johanna sat by her side.  
"She's got a sprained ankle nothing more. I'll put her on some Ice when we get back to the TARDIS." said Johanna.  
"Only a sprained ankle? Okay then," Johanna looked up to see Ashildr wearing a sly smile. She quickly shared it, "who's going to be the one to wake our dearest damsel here?"

"I'll leave the honours to you," said Johanna as she rose, "I'm under constant threat of eviction if she wakes up in a bad mood."

"Suit yourself."

Her eyes wondered before settling on a wall mounted steel cannister. She plucked it from it's hanging place and wielded the nozzle in one hand.`Johanna was hiding a smile behind her hand but nodded to Ashildr encouragingly. Aimed at her thighs, the cannister unleashed a cloud of white with great force. Clara awoke with a yelp, flung into a sitting position whilst her companions were besides themselves with laughter.

"What the...Why? What?" were among Clara's first words to the pair. She began to register the pain in her ankle and hissed when she tried to stand.

"Come on Clara. Come with us." said Johanna. She helped Clara to stand. Clara looped her arm around Johanna's shoulder, taking the weight of her ankle as they walked. Her eyes were darting to and from all the things that had happened in her absence.

"The Ice Warriors have been defeated," Ashildr informed her, "The starship will be safe for a while."

"Well what's left of it will be." Johanna added forlornly.

"Don't be so down Johanna. We did our best here. We did good." Clara misstep, her bad foot touching ground and sending shooting pains up to her knee cap. She winced and hissed, "Or you two did. What happened to my ankle?"

"It was sprained when he winched you." said Johanna, "We're almost at the TARDIS though. I'm prescribing bed rest and Ice for your ankle. Perhaps a pot of tea if Ashildr would be so kind."

"You're not the boss just because Clara's off her feet." Ashildr chastised, but there was a smile to accompany her scolding. " Anyway there's a pair of crutches in the wardrobe. If she really wants to boss us around no ankle will stop her."

"Actually, bed sounds very good right now." so said Clara between hops. Ashildr eyed her strangely.

"Bed? Really? You're not one to sleep Clara."

"I wasn't thinking of sleeping. It's about time I caught up on my writing. You two should take the TARDIS somewhere nice. Somewhere safe," she emphasised, "just for a day or two. And I'll gladly take a coffee if anyone's offering."

 _Writing?_ Ashildr thought on it before she realised she meant her diaries. "You want to be left alone again." This had been her way for some time now. Since the day she found out she was carrying her daughter. Before then she and Ashildr had consulted their diaries together more often than not.

"Just for now. Next time we'll do it together I promise." Ashildr had heard this promise before and it always added to her disappointment. Clara was squeezing her shoulder in an attempt to reassure her when Johanna decided to clear her throat loudly. "You okay Johanna?" Clara asked of her companion. Ashildr felt her face warm when Johanna playfully eyed her across Clara's shoulder with one brow rising towards her hairline.

"Yeah I'm fine," she responded blankly, " Ashildr can you get the door for us." The TARDIS door was opened and the trio hobbled into diner, beyond the barstools and the backdoor the TARDIS control room was waiting for them. Since they first left Galifrey three hundred years ago the interior had changed little but from their travels they had brought back goods and furnishing to decorate the long halls behind winding corridors. In the control room along the bare wall of roundels there were sofas for lounging. The cold leather was warded off by a multitude of blankets and throws. Here they dumped Clara. Johanna lead herself through the corridors in search of ice and Ashildr worked the console unit until it signalled to them that they were in flight.

"The beaches of San Toe are a nice place to visit." Clara suggested from where she lay on the sofa.

"We'll be out of here soon Clara."

Johanna came back soon after with a pair of crutches in hand. She retrieved them and thanked the blonde woman before leaving the pair alone in the console room.

"Clara wants us to relax at a beach or something." Ashildr told her once she had her attention, "but I'm not feeling it. I know of a place that plays chess games in giant pits. I wouldn't risk either of us playing a game but it could be fun to watch. What do you think?"

"I thought you were suggesting something nice and leisurely for a minute there." Johanna was not convinced, "Don't you need to sleep Ashildr? We've been on our feet for hours."

"I'm still buzzing from that shoot out. Can't expect me to sleep now. Or is this your way of telling me you're tired?"  
"Tired?! Not me. I feel the same. Take me to this chess match then."

The TARDIS sounded their flight. When subsided, Ashildr was first to the door. As they strode through the outer shell, in the windows they could see the world that waited for them. Aliens of a hundred species passed those windows, walking through small dreary streets of walled blue steel. Beneath their feet was a well trodden sludge of coppery soil. The first boot to move sank down a good few inches.  
"Lovely," Ashildr complained in passing, lifting her feet with a squelch. "I don't remember it being this moist."

"I'm not complaining." said Johanna and true to her words she explored the streets with little struggle from the earth beneath her. "You should really learn to work you're cameleon curcuit, the TARDIS will surely get noticed in a place like this."

"Nah," replied Ashildr dismissively, "This place is multi-cultural, it'll hardly get noticed. I'll get it fixed eventually. Where are you going?" Johanna was some distance ahead of her now and Ashildr was loosing sight of her beyond the builds of alien pedestrians. Bumping shoulders along the way, she begrudged her relative shortness. Once close she clung to Johanna by the fabric of her sleeve, keeping constant contact with her as they weaved through the crowds.

"Everyone's moving in this direction," said Johanna, manoeuvring Ashildr to walk just in front of her and Ashildr released her sleeve. "Something must be going on."

"But the chess pits are on the other side of town." Ashildr was disappointed.

"Perhaps something better's on the other side of this crowd. Can't exactly turn back now can we."

"I suppose not," Looking backwards the crowd was pushing ever forwards like a solid pointed wall moving in a narrow corridor. Soon that corridor gave way to a red stone bridge over a chasm. Far below silver sliver of water crashed over rocks as it the flow made it's way to sea. Ahead of them was a giant tower construct. So tall was it's build the peak seemed to wave and shake in the wind. At several points crimson flags whipped in the air and the sound of steel rattling over the crowd caused a cacophony.

"Those flags?" said Johanna looking up. Along side the flowing cloths of red were many things of the same colour strung together like tin cans on a wedding car. At this distance she could not determine what they were, but paired with the approaching sound of feet pounding arrhythmical on stone an unease was stirring.  
"I can't see!" said Ashildr, stopping momentarily to bounce furiously. No matter how high she could not see over the crested head of the lizard man in front of her.

"Move over here," Johanna insisted and guided her from her right to her left. Now faced with the wall of the bridge she understood what Johanna had intended. There were enough nooks and crevices chipped in this section of the stone for her to ascend with little difficulty. The difficulty lay in maintaining her balance once atop. She was six feet above the bridge to her right but an inestimable distance from the rocky river on her left. "See anything interesting?" Johanna called up to her. Ashildr could she many interesting things. A glance downwards showed Johanna making herself small against the wall so's to avoid getting caught up in the fast moving crowd which was as sure to sweep the unwary away as the winding water beneath them all. At the bridges end, the path gave out to streets, small and large running between steel houses and muddy shacks. The crowd was continuing on a straight forward path towards the base of the tower. She could not see this base, obscured as it was behind the heights of the buildings before it. But above the flat roofs could be viewed the towers upper levels and all the banners and trinkets which decorated them. "Well?" Johanna inquired again.

"I think we're going to a Colosseum of some sort. The tower's decorated with bits of armour," so she assumed. There was still distance limiting her vision, she could make out colours of red and the odd shimmer of gold or silver when the sun shone on it just right. "Still want to go Jo?"

"Turning back still isn't an option I think. Now come down and lets go. More than one sharply dressed creature has torn a hole in my jacket simply by walking past me." Ashildr shuffled down of the ledge and assumed her place in front of Johanna as they followed the flow.

"Johanna?" asked Ashildr as they neared the tower.

"Yes Ashildr."

"How much do you know of an alien race known as the Time Lords?" Johanna frowned in thought.

" The Time Lords? Their from the planet Galifrey, the inheritors of an ancient an intellectual culture, they can regener- I've read the files on the Doctor and the Master. Why do you ask?"

"Because Time Lords regenerate. Most only get twelve face changes before they realise they are mortal. But you're right, they are intelligent. Can you imagine how hard it must be to kill one."

"Considering they can change their face? Quite."

"Quite correct."Ashildr wheeled where she stood. Johanna to came to an abrupt halt. The broad splotchy face of a toothy alien snarled at them as they blocked his passage. "Now can you imagine how hard it must be to kill two hundred?" Now close to the tower, the crowd were organising themselves into queues, be they at they tower entrance itself or at one of the various stalls selling food and trinkets. Not far in front of them was a stone arch, the first of many decorating the walk way to the entrance. Circling the pillars were crimson chest pieces and shoulder pad. Skewered through the points of spears were blooded helms stacked one on top of another, the spears themselves jutted out from crevices in the arch like beams of sunlight. To these Ashildr pointed.

"That armour? What's so special about...Oh," To the heights of the tower Johanna looked, to find the same armour tailing of spikes at regular intervals. "All those are from Galifrey. You think all of those are from Galifrey."

"The inscriptions match, that gold writing on the side, no other species writes like that. Two hundred Time Lords Johanna, are you not curious?"

"A little," she confessed, "but closer to cautious. It's just the two of us in a completely foreign place. You can't guarantee we have friends in this crowd."

"We don't necessarily have enemies in them either. Come. Let's see what all the fuss is about. Then I'd like to find someone who knows what the Time Lords were doing here."

"You want to know if the Doctor was amongst them don't you?"

"The Doctor?! No, he has nothing to do with it. It's Clara I'm concerned about-"

"There's that concern again..."

"Shut up. And myself. We've both had run ins with the Time Lords before. Things you wont have written in your records. Perhaps It's time I filled you in on some things."


	7. Combat Pt 2

**AN: Not much to say about this chapter except IT'S HERE! And was originally going to be a tiny bit longer but that will instead be a mini chapter of it's own.**

* * *

"So you and Clara are immortals..." Johanna summarised as they paced the coliseum's walkways. Inside the stadium were a hundred floors for seating all surrounding a great circular pit of red sand. The air was hot and smoky. Above, the ceiling rose to a point and no outside light could enter. Instead the ways were lit with torches and braziers. Most burnt orange but Ashildr noticed some burning blue and green on the higher levels. There was even fire above them, great burning disks that hanged by chains. A local ushered them into a row of stone seats. There were people standing around the pit below them and people looking down on them all above. They were good seats nonetheless. From here nothing obscured the pit but smoke and waving flames. They passed a hooded beaky alien cooking heating food by torch flame. They bumped into him on passing and Ashildr talked him out of a skewer a meat before they continued towards their seats. Ashildr tugged at the chewy meat with her teeth and after the first bite went back for many more.

"Blimey! You go native fast." said Johanna as Ashildr wiped the grease from her lips.

"It's good meat." Ashildr returned, "Tastes like chicken. You want?" she asked, pointing the sticks end to her in offering.

"I'll pass thanks. Do you ever get tired of it?"

"Of meat?" she asked in confusion.

"No," replied Johanna with a chuckle. A solemn gaze returned, "of immortality. I mean I'm what...38? Sometimes I feel tired of life. Tired of failing. Tired of losing. For that to go on for ever and ever... Some people might call that hell."

The meat suddenly sat sickly in her stomach. " We've known each other mere weeks Jo. I've told you nothing of my failings or my loses."

"No you haven't, that was more projection on my part. Still. You claimed to have lived for so long. I can guess." Ashildr could see the pity in her eyes. Right now it was frustratingly unwelcome. _Family._ It always came down to family. _You can get new ones, and I don't remember the old. What is it with mortals and breeding?!_ "Have you ever failed at something so bad Ashildr that the idea of getting a second chance seems so undeserved."

"...Yes" Ashildr answered hesitantly.

"Did you ever get that second chance? What did you do with it?"

 _I spent the past three hundred years with her._ She wanted to say. _And I will have failed again when she has to go back._ Instead a chorus of drums pounded out from the pits circumference and the crowds roared in anticipation.

"I think they're bringing someone out now." said Ashildr but her voice was barely audible over the noise.  
"What? I can't hear you! I think someone's coming out now!" said Johanna and Ashildr shook her head before focussing on the show below. Opposite them the crowds were stamping their feet, their limps painted and raised and they were throwing taunts. Below in the pit an iron gate was raised and the first competitor greeted the crowd like a true showman. He was male, or so their foreign eyes presumed. A mass of muscle painted in black and gold under light armour which served more for decoration than protection. From a clasp on his waist he with drew his weapon of choice. With a quick flick of his wrist the whip uncoiled and lashed against the sand with an electric crackle. He repeated this motion, each crack earning approval from his half of the stadium.

Another entered this ring. They caught a glimpse of light blue before their view was blocked by a passing salesman.

"The Black or the Blue?" he asked of them. Upon his broad shoulders was a wooden yoke. Hanging from either end steel buckets of paint. In one was black, the other blue but in the darkness of the coliseum they both looked the same.

"We're not avid supporters of either side." Ashildr told the salesman and then he passed. They were the only unpainted ones. Around them every one wore a markings made of the blue to match the second competitor. His whip was much more modest, simply a chain with iron hook on the end. "They both have whips," Ashildr observed, cleaning her skewer and leaving herself with a small pointed stick. "They're going to be dancing around each other's strokes. Not quite what I was expecting."

"There's a third competitor." said Johanna as the crowd cheered in unison. Whilst Ashildr had been poking her nails with the twig a humanoid had entered from up a stairwell in the crowd. He or she was clad in armour, head to toe with only the face exposed. On either side a guard escorted him, batting back the flailing arms of onlookers carrying mixed intention.

"Is this what the Time Lords came here for?" asked Johanna, for the competitor was a Time Lord if the armour could be believed, "to compete?"

"No." replied Ashildr still pondering. _Too many had lost for that to make sense._ "He's not even-"

The first crack of the whip stunned them both to silence whilst the crowd cheered. "...armed." Ashildr finished. The electric one looped the Time Lords leg and flipping him to the ground and there they let him be, both parties circling him like predators. Blue waited for him to be on his feet before making his move. Again aiming for the feet, drawing out the fight. The hook caught on his armour and again he was floored.

"Oh my God..." sighed Johanna as the two took turns administering lashes. Soon one side would simply lash at the ground, instructing him to dance as the other dealt the harming blow.

Ashildr leaned back in contemplation, her eyes seeking occupation in her stick rather than the fight below. _I've seen worse,_ she reminded herself. _At least they gave him armour._ She found herself recalling those that decorated the exterior. _But they'll kill him eventually anyway._ Her eyes turned to the upper levels where the flames burnt blue and green. Up there the onlookers were fat and well groomed, contributing little to the rambunctious cacophony of cheering. _Where I need to be..._

"We should help him."

"What?" said Ashildr at Johanna's suggestion. "No!"

"No?"

"No, that's what I said. We're leaving this alone it's not for us to get involved in."

"But...What does it take for this to be something you'd get involved in. That's torture down there. Pure, cruel torture."

"It's also a TIME LORD down there. A group of people me and Clara are not eager to mix with." Another crack reached their ears and the two flinched in their seats. The hoard around them stamped their feet gloriously as the chain whip came away dripping red.

"Is that all it takes for you to cower away?! You're immortal Ashildr! What's the point of your life if you don't save people."

Ashildr snapped, "What is it you want me to do? What physically do you want me to do? Do you want me to charge in there, enrage the crowd by halting the fight and putting us all in danger?"

"No you could-"  
"Or theres always the more peaceful route. I could find a way to meet the people on top. Get all the paper work to put a stop to this but by then he'd most likely be dead."

"But it's wrong..."

"I know. But it also can't be helped. Not by us. Not in this moment." The silence fell thick between them. Around them was an orchestra of cheers and electric snapping. The Time Lord was losing armour with each lash but they had given him space to dodge their strikes, presumably to draw out the fight. Now he danced about the sand trapped in a hellish play.

"I'm getting a headache." said Johanna massaging her brow so's to avoid the show below. Ashildr was beginning to feel a pain too, but nothing she couldn't ignore.

"Make your way back to the TARDIS then. I'll start asking question. I'll be back with you as soon as I have what I need."

Johanna rose to go and Ashildr did likewise. They were some distance apart when Ashildr turned back. She watched as Johanna walked lower and lower, thankfully undisturbed by spectators, as she followed the route they took to enter. The walkway guided her underneath their level and, now out of sight, Ashildr set her tasks for the floors above.

Stairways were located behind the seating bay and were mostly void of people now the fight had began. She ascended flight after flight until she lost count. Eventually the stairs came to a halt and she walked out onto a balcony lit with flickering blue. Leaning over the railings she saw the fighters had become much smaller. She could only make out one warrior by the electric crackling through his whip. So engrossed was she in the downwards view she did not notice the figure behind her until his hand was on her shoulder and she jumped with a gasp.

"The only pink things in this stadium fight below in the sands" He hissed as he turned her. He towered over her at seven foot, on his head were three scaled crests of dark blue and his eyes were small black and full of accusation. "Who are you to think you belong up here." He was pushing on her shoulder. One quick shove and she would be over the rails and falling.

"I have business with the Time Lords," He lifted her off her feet and she grabbed onto his scaled arm. "Important business. The last thing you want to do right now is kill me and anger some very powerful people."

"Time Lords are amusing," he punctuated, "They die over and over again. I've seen it a hundred time. If your business is so important I'll send you over this edge and you can crawl back with a face less offensive to my eyes."

"When did I say I was a Time Lord. I am not a Time Lord." she argued and he shrugged.

"Then die and don't come back at a-"

"Caboll?" a voice called and his grip on her lessened. "Caboll? Is that you? What are you doing with that child?" To their right the stairs had curved and they had not seen his approach until he was a few metres away. Like her assailant, the new comer was tall and dark in scales, dress in silks and sandals whilst Caboll was simply a brute in his attire.

"My job Master Stonn. This Time Lord escaped the lower vaults." he answered dutifully with his eyes downcast.

"Did she?" he replied doubtfully, "That can't be so. Every being in this stadium can see plainly the last Time Lord is down in the pit as we speak." Master Stonn came closer and leaned over the rails with a pair of binoculars to see that the fight was indeed still going on below. "Yep he's still going," he confirmed, and pocketed the item in a side pouch. "But who are you if not a Time Lord? You look a lot like they do."

"I'm human. I suspect were not a common sight here."

"Not common at all. I've never heard of a human before. Well...Before a few weeks ago that is; when the Time Lord first arrived. Tell me. Do you per chance happen to be The Clara Oswald?"

Ashildr was caught in silence, barely managing to stumble out a sentence.

"I'm Ashildr her...Liason to the Time Lords in our affairs. Or I would have been. But then I found out you killed them all and used them to decorated your stadium. What am I to do now?"

"Right here, right now? I'd suggest staying until the games have finished. We do have much to talk about. Perhaps we can do so from the comfort of my balcony?"

"I'd like that," said Ashildr seeing no reason to object.

"What do you think about our games then?" he asked her politely as they walked the curved steps. Caboll followed them both with a reluctant hiss.

"I came here with a friend. She didn't approve."

"Visitors often don't," said Stonn. They approached his balcony where two plush sofas were pressed against the railing with a table in between them. There they sat opposite one another whilst Caboll dutifully filled Stonn's cup and hers. She was reluctant to drink, the first sip told her it was something vile and the first sip confirmed it. "Perhaps it's because we call them games when in reality what you see below is a display of justice."

"Justice?" questioned Ashildr, neglecting her cup. There was a sudden roar from down below and both she, Stonn and several other's peer over the balconies. She did not have the luxury of binoculars but the glow of regeneration energy was clear even at this height. The glow passed and a new figure flopped onto the sands. The Black warrior was swinging his whip in a celebratory fashion having dealt the killing stroke when Stonn tutted and lowered his binoculars.

"Such a shame," he told her, "I had such hope in the new comer."

"You make a game of regeneration. This is your justice? What did he do to earn that? What did two hundred do to earn that?"

"When they first arrived they only had two ships. Only two ships and two hundred people yet they still managed to hold the city hostage within the space of a day. Our computer systems were hacked, our defences taken away. They searched every street, every home. Families were separated as they made a catalogue of residents. They claimed to be searching for someone; a temporal fugitive, and all their scanners and fancy technology pointed them to my planet. To my city."

"And then you're people rebelled?"

"No. That happened later. Have you heard of the Temporal Isolator?"

"I know it's a weapon. I've never seen it used."

"It was used here. Whole streets at a time were frozen in the moment, no one could move. In theory that meant neither could their fugitive if she were hiding there, only she was never there. They unfroze the street and moved onto the next. Only every now and then one street would remain stuck in stasis. Our people could not move. Could not feed. Could not drink. We watched them waste away and still they did not find her."

"I'm sorry for what happened to you're people. Truly I am-"

"Your apologies are not needed. The people have had their justice." he said with a wave of his hand, "After tomorrows fight the last Time Lord will be dead and my city will be in a better position to move o-"

"Master Stonn!" called an approaching guard who promptly halted their conversation. He pushed forwards Johanna with each step, the woman's hand restrained behind her a bruise sported her cheek.

"Johanna?" said Ashildr.

"I'm sorry..." she replied.

"Would this be the friend you mentioned Ashildr?" asked Stonn as he reclined in his seat, "I do hope it's only the one. I've enjoyed these games but I'm eager to get back to work already."

Ashildr turned to him with a desperate expression, "Master Stonn, I assure you whatever my companion has done to upset it would not have been without good reason and I will see to it she face consequences myself."

"She was in the lower levels," the guard informed, "speaking with the Time Lord." Ashildr felt her panic rising and shook her head disapprovingly at Johanna.

"Send her back there in a cell of her own." commanded Stonn, " And take this one too."

"What?!" Ashildr exclaimed before Caboll joyfully hoisted her from her seat and fixed her in restraints.

"Ashildr I'm sorry your friend interrupted our conversation. Our meeting was always going to end this way. You see, my people have had justice, but not all of it. The people who have wrong them are in the grave but they still want to blame who brought them here in the first place. They came and stayed searching for your Clara. And you came too late!" Stonn nodded and Caboll dealt her a punch on the side of her head. She fell limp at the impact.

"Ashildr!" said Johanna, and a fist threatened her likewise.

"Get them both out of my sight. Tomorrow I want them fighting alongside the Time Lord."


End file.
